The Longest of Days
by Decadebaby
Summary: "Long hours wore away at her soul; as water can wear away the strongest of stones." He turned slowly away from her, and she felt like weeping. It seemed that everything was at work to separate them from one another.
1. Chapter 1

_DAY 17 - Prologue_

ELIZABETH fell into his arms and for the briefest of seconds she could feel herself relax. She knew it wouldn't last, but for that instant it was all that she wanted. The familiar beating of his heart soothed her badly shattered nerves, and she closed her eyes, exhaling, at peace for the first time since she had left. It felt inexpressibly good to actually relax - for however briefly. It seemed that lately, the times when she could truly let go and be herself, had been reduced to mere seconds snagged every now and then. For three days, nine hours and thirty-seven minutes she'd been cautious, calculated, and tight with stress; she had been holding her breath.

She couldn't speak, but just clung tightly to him. They stood in the dim, early morning light of the foyer. She breathed in the comforting familiarity of home, grateful beyond words to be home again - to be safely tucked in his arms again.

"Elizabeth?"

He was, of course, confused at first, but being Henry, she understood it wouldn't take long for him to figure it out - to realize her deception. For so long she'd craved the sound of his voice but even as he opened his mouth to speak, she felt her knees buckle.

"Babe?"

But by then she'd started to fall and he'd lifted her up, carrying her in seemingly infinitely strong arms to the couch. He set her down and kneeling beside her, leaned in close. "You said," His voice was strange and husky. "You said it happened _after_ you'd left." She recognized the anger in his accusation, letting it settle over her; after all it was just. She had known this moment was coming and yet it still pained her. She wished with all her heart that her return was simple and uncomplicated with world crisis, and deceit.

She pulled herself upright, feeling the familiar tightening in her chest as she pushed aside every raw emotion; burying it deep - again. She ran a hand over her face and turning to him said, "I lied."

He sat back on his heels, his face grey with shock. Something unrecognizable washed over his features and she felt an actual sting of physical pain as she awaited his reaction.

"You lied?" His voice was flat.

"Henry," She held a hand out to him. "What was I supposed to do? It was over by the time we talked and there was an ocean between us! I'm supposed to let you stress for the next two days?"

"Three." He corrected. He moved, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. His shoulders were slumped and he sat further back - away from her.

"Were you hurt?" His voice was strained, and she found herself precariously close to sobbing. She had hurt him. She had known her lie would.

"Not really. I just . . . I have a bruise and . . ." She swallowed hard. "Henry, I never meant to . . . It was so . . . I just wanted to come home, first. That's all."

He rose and looked down at her. "Now I know why it was so hard to get a hold of you." He shook his head, taking a step away from her. He gave a shrug, "At least I know lying to me is difficult enough for you to try and evade my calls."

"Henry, please!" She turned and stood slowly. They stood just two steps apart from each other. **"** I just wanted to be home! I'm so sorry!"

He gave the slightest nod and turned from her. "The kids will be up soon. It's almost 6:30. I suppose you're heading into the office today." He paused at the doorway of the kitchen. "I'll fix 'em breakfast. You must be exhausted."

She stood staring at his back, blinking back tears, incapable of any response.

He glanced back at her and her eyes grew wide, shocked by his expression - which was somehow equal measures of fury and grief.

"And I am . . ." He paused his voice suddenly husky, again. "Elizabeth, I'm so grateful you are home and safe. I _was_ worried - no matter what lies you told me. But I don't know how to process this - at least not yet."

He met her eyes then and she couldn't stop herself from crying. She nodded her head. "Okay."

"Go on." He said. "If the kids hear your voice, they'll be down in a second and I'm thinking you need a minute."

She nodded once more and somehow found the strength to climb the stairs. Truth be told her knee was throbbing. It was still swollen and the meds they'd given her had definitely worn off. But somehow the pain in her knee made her feel better; her punishment for saying three words to her husband.

" _I've been calling and calling!"_

" _I'm sorry! We were . . ."_

" _They said there was an attack. It's all over the news! Are you okay? Babe? Were you still there?"_

" _No, we left."_

It wasn't what she had wanted to say to him. The very sound of his voice had sent her heart racing, her desperation to hear him, see him, touch him so powerful she had to hold the phone away for a minute and just focus on breathing. She wanted nothing more than to tell him everything and to listen to the sound of his voice as she wept but she was surrounded by agents, her staff, a small group of soldiers who'd been assigned to them, and immediately following this phone call to Henry, she'd be negotiating with the general who still held three American teenagers hostage.

So she lied. She lied to Henry, and he was angry and she couldn't take it back. She stepped into the warmth of the shower grateful that the sound of the water drowned out her heaving sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

_Day One_

JASON McCord groaned and put his pillow over his head in a fruitless attempt to drown out the sound of his parents laughter.

"It's Saturday!" He complained. "Let a guy sleep!"

Light flooded his room as his father pushed the door open.

"Aw, we wake you, buddy?" He teased. "Sorry, Mom was just explaining how she managed to burn yogurt."

Surrendering to the inevitable, Jason sat up. "Yogurt?" He looked up at his father. "Why would she. . . But you don't cook yogurt!"

"See!" His father said over his shoulder. "Elizabeth, Jason just said the same thing!"

"Henry! I already explained it!"

Jason could hear the exasperation in his mother's voice but he could hear the laughter too. His parents were _always_ laughing. He fell asleep to the sound of it and woke up to the sound of it. It was annoying. Her mother found her father unbelievably hilarious, which only seemed to encourage his father's corny jokes.

Of course lately, they hadn't been laughing much. They hadn't been in the house _at the same time_ much. His mother's job was relentless. It seemed that the second she sat down on the couch, her phone would ring and she would be gone, leaving them all trying not show their disappointment. There was nothing more depressing than his father pretending _not_ to be depressed that his mom was gone _again_.

"Is there any breakfast that isn't burned?" He asked his father.

"Breakfast? Jas, it's nearly eleven!"

"Dad! It's 10:15." He said glancing at the clock.

"I said nearly. C'mon, Mom'll burn you some lunch."

***MS***

It was the first normal Saturday in ages. Elizabeth puttered around the house in an old pair of sweats and one of Henry's old boot camp t-shirts. She slept late, had breakfast with Henry and Ali, and spent half the morning watching a movie with Stevie and Alison. She had a million things she ought to be doing but it felt so good to sit on the couch with an entire day stretched out in front of her that she decided to neglect all of them. Around noon, she decided she ought to actually do something. The clean house always left her with a strangely restless feeling - she hadn't adjusted to having someone come and clean each week. It was just another strange necessity of life in politics - along with having a driver and a stylist. She felt an obligation to clean from time to time - just so the house felt like it was actually _hers._

She was in the master bath clad in rubber gloves and scrubbing out the tub when Henry came looking for her.

"Well, I could watch this all day." He grinned leaning against the counter.

"There's something wrong with you, you know that, right?"

"I can't admire you? You missed a spot." He pointed low, laughing. "So this is your big plan for your day off?"

"You know me, I dream big - and scrubbing out this tub is my dream come true."

"Dad!" Alison's voice cut through their laughter.

Henry sighed and turning called out, "In here, honey."

"You know," Elizabeth told him. "You could help me."

"I'd rather watch."

"Did you ask her?" Alison asked, stepping into the doorway. Seeing her mother, she rolled her eyes and said, "What are you doing? Jackie just cleaned the tub Thursday. Honestly!"

"Mom, wants to be hands on. She's not comfortable with being the Lady of the Manor."

"Henry, you are so stuck up! Ali, ignore him. He's still bitter he had more chores as a child than me, as a child."

"More! And just what chores did you have Princess Elizabeth?"

"Mucking out the stables, for one, which is how it is so easy for me to recognize a pile of . . ."

"Uh, I think Ali wanted to ask you something." He interrupted.

"We are going to the movies? Do you wanna come?"

"When?" Her mother asked. "Now? I'm not really dressed for it." She climbed out of the tub. "What are you going to see? Is it that new love story thing because I cannot take another pair of crazed vampires falling in love."

"No, Jason refused. He said absolutely no sappy love stories."

"I agree with him on this." Elizabeth leaned against the tub. "Which one then - something animated?"

"No." Ali laughed. "He wanted to go to that new war movie. You know, the one with all the explosions. You always complain about the commercial because it is so loud and . . ." Alison's face grew pink as she heard what she said. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even thinking! How stupid! You wouldn't want . . ."

Elizabeth dropped the sponge, peeling off the gloves she'd been wearing, and pulled Alison close to her.

"It wasn't dumb." She said, kissing her daughter's forehead. "It's no big deal."

"It's okay, Noodle." Henry said to her.

"We just forgot that she wouldn't . . ."

"You forgetting is a _good_ thing, baby. It means we've settled back into a kind of normal." Elizabeth told her.

"Mom's just got a few endearing quirks now." Henry said winking at Elizabeth.

"I'll skip the movie, though. I'd probably just fall asleep, anyway. You know how I feel about weak writing and insipid plot lines."

"Mom's a movie snob." Henry said.

"That's true." Alison agreed. "You want us to bring back dinner?"

"Yes!" Elizabeth said squeezing Ali before releasing her. "Surprise us."

"Tell Stevie to use the card for dinner." Henry told her.

"Okay! We'll see you later." Ali kissed her mother's cheek and left. Elizabeth sagged sitting down on the steps near the tub.

"Well, I'm trying to convince myself that wasn't a depressing situation." She said looking up at Henry.

He studied her thoughtfully for a brief moment, and then moved to sit beside her.

"Well, you could've pretended it wasn't going to bother you, gone with them to the movies, and then spent the rest of your day off underneath a sticky theater seat, breathing into a paper bag."

"You've got a real knack for cheering me up." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Although, I see your point."

"See, it's working already."

"'Endearing quirks?'" She shook her head. "You've got a unique perspective."

"Babe, I love you." He said wrapping an arm around her and kissing her cheek. "I'm just so content to have you here and home. And you are doing great. It's just a small part of you."

She relaxed against him, considering his words. Henry was right, of course, most days she didn't even think about her PTSD. The small remnants of those bleak days really were quirks - aversion to loud noises, an almost obsessive need to understand every aspect of her surroundings and, as they had all learned the hard way, never to have anyone ask her for help with math.

"You know," Henry interrupted her thoughts. "The kids are gonna be gone for a couple of hours . . ."

She began to laugh at his steadfast predictability.

"And?" She asked coyly.

"Well, I thought maybe you'd want a nap." He squeezed her shoulder and rose, holding a hand out to her.

"A nap?" She asked taking his hand and following him to the bedroom.

"Sure, Babe. I'll just read you a bedtime story."

"Uh huh." She laughed and pulled him close to her. "I got a better idea."

***MS***

Elizabeth settled back on the couch, a magazine on her lap, decidedly content. Her stomach was tight with a ridiculously good dinner. The kids had brought home Thai food - and she never could seem to control herself when it came to anything with coconut curry. They ate dinner, and then went for a family hike at a nearby park. Thankfully, no press had followed them, and felt like the most normal evening they had experienced since coming to DC. As they settled in for the night, she kept waiting for her phone to ring, but it never did. They sat up together watching tv, until the news came on, and then everyone drifted up to bed. They locked up the house, and as she crawled in bed next to Henry, who was surrounded by books and papers, she felt a peace settle over her. It had been so long that she had felt this comfortable and this secure. Things had been very difficult lately, as she and Henry struggled to find a way to live with all the things they couldn't talk about and all the ways their jobs conflicted. She hated more than anything, feeling cut off from him, and knew he felt the same way. It had not been easy, but it seemed they had somehow found a precarious balance.

"Today was nice." He said putting his books and papers away, and setting his glasses on the nightstand.

"Today was perfect." She responded drowsily.

"I can't believe your phone didn't ring once." He scooted down under the covers, wrapping his arms around her. "Is it broken?"

"No." She laughed. "I checked."

"Well, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it stays silent until dawn at least."

"Me too." She told him. "But I'm hoping past dawn. I'd like to sleep a little later than that."

"Who said anything about sleep?" He grinned and leaning close kissed her.

Later, she lay awake, watching him sleep. She generally left the praying to him, but somehow, her heart was so filled with gratitude that she couldn't help but lift a brief prayer of thanksgiving for this one day - a tiny island in the storm of the demands of their increasingly complicated lives.

It was only after everything was over that she thought back to that night, and wished she had offered up a different prayer; a prayer that their peace and happiness would never be shattered.


	3. Chapter 3

_Day Three_

It began with the normal complications of two people with complicated and important careers. Things at work were slightly hectic - not Almost- World -War-Three busy but busy enough. She worked late that Monday, leaving when Henry was still asleep and returning late that night. The house was silent, and despite being filled with everyone she loved, felt terribly empty. She moved in the dim light, avoiding the kitchen and the container of ice cream she'd tucked in the back of the refrigerator. It would be too easy to drown her sorrows in a pint of mocha almond fudge. Instead, she headed up the stairs, hoping that by some miracle, Henry was still awake. It seemed that it had been ages since she'd seen him.

Sunday she'd only seen him briefly, as he had been gone nearly all day. His secret job wanted him recertified - so he'd spent the day proving his mental and physical proficiency. He'd spent what would have been their one common day off in weeks requalify on the shooting range, and proving his overall physical stamina.

" _Why Sunday?" She had whined._

" _Uh, probably so it doesn't interfere with my 'real' job?"_

" _But I'm actually off!" She didn't even try to hide the disappointment in her voice._

 _He'd put an arm around her, brushing her forehead with a light kiss and telling her the same thing he'd said decades ago when he was an untried Marine with new orders. "Big brass don't care, Babe."_

" _We are big brass." She pointed out._

" _Not big enough." He chuckled. "C'mon hon, it's just a day. It's not like they are sending me to the Gulf."_

Which of course was true. Still it had bothered her. She was looking forward to two days with him - they'd had so much interruption and stress lately - a weekend free of obligation and crisis was an unbelievable gift.

And it wasn't as if she was helplessly dependent on him. They'd spent months apart - especially early on, but things were different now. She had grown accustomed to him being there; always. She took comfort that no matter how long or stressful her day had been - it would end with him there. She could count on him to at least tease a smile out of her. They had both come to accept that they could not discuss every detail of their day, but still that didn't mean they couldn't be there for each other. They had been so naive when she'd taken the job. Looking back at it, she couldn't believe how naive she had been! She had no idea how much responsibility she was taking on; the weight of it was heavy, and she found she needed Henry more than she could possibly have imagined; not because she was weak or incomplete without him, but rather because it was a simple truth - like gravity. When the load is heavy, two is better than one.

She _had_ been ridiculously clinging after Iran. It was understandable, of course, but still it had embarrassed her. She couldn't quite manage being away from him. After the fallout, and things settled back to a new type of normal, she found herself battling panic attacks if she was away from him too long. She'd even called him once, from the office, trying to keep the sound of anxiety from her voice.

"What are you doing?" She'd asked, desperate to sound casual.

"Um, I was lecturing but took a little break for a phone call." His voice was tinged with concern. "I thought you had a budget meeting."

"I took, uh, a little break. I didn't see you this morning."

"It's Tuesday. I had an early staff meeting. You okay, Babe?"

"Yeah, I, uh, it's nothing. I just . . . It's stupid." She felt her face flush with embarrassment. "I'm sorry for interrupting your lecture."

"That's okay, honey." A tense silence hung between them for a brief moment. "Hey, I've got a break for a few minutes after this lecture. Why don't I come down there?"

"No, that's . . ." She swallowed hard. "That's stupid, Henry. It'll take you forty minutes and I've probably only got five minutes for you. We'll both be home in a few hours."

"Oh, I don't mind. Five minutes with you is worth it."

Tears swarmed her eyes, and she shook her head trying to fight them - hating herself for being so _dependent_. "Henry, I just . . ."

"Listen, Babe, it's okay." He said, emphasizing each word. "It's okay. I'll be there in about an hour, okay? And it's no big deal."

"Right." She'd said bitterly.

"Listen, I gotta finish this lecture." His voice was gentle and comforting. "I mean these kids are on the edge of their seats to find out what happens next. But after that I'll just run over and say hello."

"I suppose there is an upside to me falling completely apart." She said sighing into the phone. 

"You aren't falling apart."

"Right. I'm calling you up like some nervous baby who can't manage being alone."

"Listen, I really gotta get back, but Babe, you are the strongest human I have ever known; ever. And don't forget I've been in battle. This is just you readjusting. And if I get extra minutes with you because of it, then it's not all bad. I love you, babe, and any excuse to see you works for me."

"You are such a kiss-ass." She told him with a weak laugh, but she'd had to take a full minute after she'd hung up the phone before she could go back to the meeting.

He was right, of course. In general, he usually was. She had readjusted and life settled back into normal patterns. She was able to manage time away from him without panic threatening just at the edges. But times like this, when life got too busy or she had time off and he didn't - it bothered her. It bothered her more than she remembered.

She climbed the stairs now, after a long day, hoping that he was still awake. The room was dark when she entered and she could hear his light snore. She debated briefly whether she should wake him, but once she'd undressed and climbed into the warm bed beside him, she'd fallen almost immediately asleep.

She awoke to an empty bed. It was Tuesday, and he always left early on Tuesdays. She immediately reached for her phone, and saw he'd left her a text.

 _I guess I fell asleep before you got home. I tried to stay awake, but maybe_

 _grading those essays was a bad technique! I've got an evening lecture_

 _tonight, too! Man, I miss you baby! Call me when you get a chance! I love you!_

She immediately texted him back, knowing he was probably on the Metro, or at the office already. But maybe he'd have a chance to at least text her back.

 _Sorry, babe! We've got that trip coming up and there is entirely too many_

 _meetings about protocol and other nonsense! Did you call that electrician_

 _back? I never got that chance. And Ali's got that choir trip. Did you talk_

 _to Frank? I should be able to attend - you know, unless the world falls apart._

 _He wanted to go over some stuff with you._

His text back was almost instantaneous.

 _Please, Babe, no sexting! I'm in a meeting!_

She rolled her eyes at the row of laughing emojis he sent and felt guilty that she sent such a boring text. This is why she hated missing each other. They had so much ordinary crap to take care of and it was so much easier to have these conversations in person. He sent her another text.

 _I've got a call scheduled with Frank this afternoon. And Ali is over the moon about_

 _you being able to make the concert. Although, she hides it with teenage_

" _Whatever" attitude. The electrician said it wouldn't be worth it since we are gonna_

 _sell anyway. He recommended just disclosing that it needs to be fixed and letting_

 _the new owners worry about it. Which sounds good to me. Did you send the_

 _mortgage check? I can't remember. I remember talking about it, but I don't think_

 _I sent it._

She sighed and texted back.

 _You sent it last week. You told me to remind you because you knew you'd forget_

 _you'd done it. Do you have time at lunch today?_

Her heart sank at his response.

 _No. I've got that banquet, remember? God, this sucks. I miss you. Dinner?_

She scanned her schedule thoughtfully, and her heart sank looking at all the boxes filled.

 _No. I've got a reception! This is ridiculous!_

She wanted to cry. It was only Tuesday and the week felt interminably long already.

 _How about a phone date? I've got 15 minutes at 11:20 and maybe 20 minutes at 3:00. And I've got a solid half hour at 4:00! I'm completely free after 6 but you aren't._

 _Pick a time, baby, and I'll call you up. Hell, I'll even talk dirty if you want!_

She studied her schedule one more time, thinking that it was stupid to be so excited about a possible 15 minute opening.

 _3:00! I can spare at least 15 minutes 20 if I push it! No matter what, call me at 3:00!_

She couldn't help but smile, thinking at least, she would get to hear his voice.

 _See! The ages of miracles has not ended! On the plus side I've got those 15 minutes_

 _at 11:20 to think up some good things to say to you! It makes me happy to think I will_

 _actually get to talk to you! It's college all over again. I'm thinking this whole Secretary_

 _of State thing is an elaborate ruse to keep me on my toes!_

She laughed out loud at this.

 _Right! The hardest part was getting Conrad on board! I better go, though. I will talk to_

 _you later! I love you!_

His response was immediate.

 _I love you, too, Babe! I'll talk to you later. Give 'em hell!_

She felt a million times better knowing that 3:00 would be there soon, but of course, by the time 3:00 had rolled around, all hell had broken loose, and the 3:00 phone call became just one more promise she had been unable to keep.


	4. Chapter 4

_Day Four_

"Ma'am?" Blake hovered in the doorway of Elizabeth McCord's office. She stood behind her desk, surrounded by papers, and peered up at him over her glasses.

"Peter Bass?" She asked him.

"His on line three, Ma'am." Blake nodded toward her phone.

"The phone?" She asked with raised eyebrows. "It's not a big enough deal for him to come in?"

"Well, he's at the hospital. His wife is having a baby." Blake explained.

"Right now?" Elizabeth was completely stunned.

"They pulled him out of the delivery room."

"Jesus!" She exclaimed. "I gotta remember that next time I complain about how this job interferes in _my_ life!"

"He's on line three." Blake repeated.

"Right!" She said reaching for the phone, and lifting it as Blake returned to his desk.

"Madam Secretary?"

"Peter, for God's sake, tell me this isn't your first child." She began without preamble. 

"Well, ma'am, it is our third, but . . ."

"You're right of course. Doesn't make a difference, does it?"

"No, ma'am, but it seems like the world doesn't care about our little lives, now does it?"

"Not generally. Listen, is she close delivery?"

"Doctors guess in the next few hours, but you never know."

"No, you don't." She sighed. "I'll keep it short. What do I need to know? And for the sake of your wife, give me the shortest version possible."

"It's mostly about regional control. We've got the TAK pretty much everywhere demanding their place at the table."

"It was my understanding that the Kurdistan Freedom Fighters were a small force. I was told they were not able to make an impact."

"That was probably true a year ago - maybe even a few months ago, but they've been gaining power. People are unhappy, and the recent situation with refugees have put immense pressure on just about every country from here to all of Eastern Europe."

"You think they'd be willing to sit down at any point?"

"I think so. I'll work things on this end, but it will need to be at a neutral location - otherwise we'll spend all our time and energy trying to come up with a mutually acceptable location. I recommend meeting outside of Turkey."

"Yes." She agreed. "And I think we should fast track everything; see if we can't get a meeting before next week."

"Next week!"

"I've found if you can move things quickly enough, it unsettles everyone just enough to make negotiations easier. It shifts the balance of power our way."

"I guess I'm relieved you didn't suggest we get them to the table before my baby is born."

"Well, that would be unreasonable." She said with a laugh. "On the other hand . . ."

"I'll see what I can do, Ma'am."

"Go back to your wife. Be there when that baby is born or she'll never forgive me. Thank you, Peter."

"I serve at the pleasure, Madam Secretary."

***MS***

"Croatia?" Elizabeth settled into the couch in her office as Nadine sat in the chair opposite her.

"It would be the simplest plan. We were already scheduled to be there next week for your goodwill tour. From a security standpoint it makes things a lot easier on your staff, and it is definitely a neutral point for everyone involved."

Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck, considering her chief of staff's suggestion. "It would be a win for Croatia, too. They wouldn't object - they aren't accustomed to a seat at the big game. And I guess, moving the trip forward a few days, won't impact my schedule too much - it's not like I'm going to be seeing my family any time soon." She sighed. "Go ahead, see what we can arrange, and keep me updated."

"Yes, ma'am." Nadine said rising. "Blake asked me to remind you that you are expected in Russell Jackson's office in about twenty minutes."

"Yes, thank you." Elizabeth rose and followed Nadine out. Blake rose from his desk, handing her several files.

"You've got twenty minutes . . ."

"I know, Blake. Don't worry. I'll be at Mr. Jackson's office on time." She interrupted, but Blake shook his head.

"No, ma'am. I wasn't worried about that. I was just going to point out to you, that you have twenty minutes - so if you wanted something to eat or to make a phone call home - there's nothing else pressing until then."

She glanced at the clock, but shook her head seeing it was 4:27 p.m. "Damn! I was supposed to call Henry at 3:00 p.m. He's got a lecture now. I didn't even get a chance to explain!"

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked. "I could grab you something from the mess or I could dash over to that place on Third?"

"No." She smiled a Blake. "Thank you. I'm just going to take a minute and then head over to Russell's office. Will you let my detail know I should be ready in ten?"

"Yes, Madam Secretary."

Elizabeth closed her outer door and returned to her office. She didn't know why she was bothering to close the door. It wasn't like she was going to get Henry on the phone. She started to send him a simple text, but then changed her mind, and dialed his number.

"Hey, Baby." She said as his answering machine kicked on. "I'm really sorry about missing your call. I know I promised no matter what, but this job has a way of completely destroying my track record on promises kept." She sighed, suddenly overwhelmed with a sadness she couldn't quite name. "I've got at least three more meetings today, so I probably won't make it home. Things have kind of . . . well, I suppose you can get the gist of it on the news eventually. I'm just . . . I'm really sorry. I'll call later or you call me. I don't care what time it is - if it is within my power, I'll take your call." She glanced at the clock. "I gotta go now. Kiss the kids and I'll talk to you later, I hope. Henry . . ." She struggled for words to express all she felt. "I really miss the sound of your voice, and you." She gave a chuckle. "I love you, babe."

Hanging up her cell phone, she turned to her desk, gathering up her papers, and hoping that things would settle down enough for her to spend at least eight hours with her family. She was starting to slump into a sort of pathetic despair when she remembered Peter Bass, the ambassador to Turkey, stepping away from his wife as their child was being born to take her call.

***MS***

 _Day Five_

"So, what are you wearing?"

"The same thing you saw yesterday." She said into her phone.

"I didn't see you yesterday." Henry pointed out. "And it looks unlikely that I'm gonna see you today. So come on, baby, whatcha wearing?" He laughed.

"Well, I've got these really uncomfortable heels on but they are designer, so complaining about them makes me seem kind of low class."

"My kind of gal." He teased her.

"What about the kids?" She asked him, rubbing a hand over her face.

"You wanna talk about the kids at three in the morning?"

"No." She sighed. "God, I'm tired. You must be too. Aren't you exhausted?"

"Yes, but something about the sound of your voice perks me right up. So what can you tell me about it?"

"You've seen it already. Turkey is blown up, but it looks like we can get the leaders of the TAK to sit down with us."

"In Croatia?" He said laughing. "Talk about unpredictable! It's supposed to be gorgeous there."

"I've been told. I don't suppose you've got a free week?"

"Tragically, no." He told her. "I could probably bail out on exams, but Allison will want at least one of us at the concert."

"Oh, God!" Elizabeth sat upright. "I completely forgot! Oh! Poor Noodle! I promised her! I am the worst mother on the planet."

"Well, there was a lady who left her baby outside the Saves-A-Lot, so you might not be at the tip top of the list . . ."

"Is she mad?"

"Currently, she's asleep and unaware." He told her. "Don't worry, babe. She'll have other concerts."

"What do you think the odds are I'm gonna make it to one of them?"

"She might not notice. The lights on stage are really bright."

"Sure, it's hard to spot me and my entourage." She pointed out.

"What's going on?" He asked her. "It's not like you to be so down. Is there more than what I'm seeing on the news."

"Well, there's always more than you see on the news, but it's nothing like that."

"So I shouldn't get the kids in a bomb shelter?" He asked.

"Not this week." She sighed. "I'm just getting tired of all the things I miss. The kids are going to be grown tomorrow, and all they will remember are all the times I wasn't there. And I miss you."

"It's just a bad week, baby. Things will even out again. They always do."

"Not lately. It seems like things are always just on the edge of disaster." She exhaled. "I'm sorry. You probably didn't wake up at three in the morning to listen to me complain."

"No, I was hoping for some serious sexy talk." He told her. "But I'll take what I can get. Now, tell me you are a bad mother again, but say it really slowly."

"Henry Patrick McCord! What would Father Bryan say?"

"I don't think you want to travel down that road, darlin'. He's got some pretty old-school ideas about husbands and wives. You'd probably be pretty ticked by any of his comments on this issue."

"That might be true." She yawned. "You should sleep. I'll hang up."

"You should sleep, too. What's the ETA on that anyway?"

"Well, we've got this phone call in about fifteen minutes and after that I'll probably catch a nap. We've got a strategy meeting in the morning."

"That seems reasonable." He yawned. "You never said anything about the baby, though."

"A girl. They named her Rebecca, I think. Fortunately, she didn't make her appearance until after her father managed to arrange a tenuous meeting between people bound and determined to destroy the world they live in - so she's got good sense right from the get-go."

"Their first?"

"Third. They have two boys and I think the oldest one is seven."

"Well, there's not a lot of social life in Turkey." He offered.

"The entire country, Henry?" She laughed. "Three little ones. Remember how exhausting it was?"

"Yeah. Remember that time that all three of them got the flu? God, that was the worst."

"You got it too."

"That's right! I forgot!" He shook his head at the memory. "It's the only time I remember you having to call anyone for help. Did my Mom come? I can't remember."

"No." Elizabeth said softly. "Your parents were on that cruise that your Dad complained about. I called Juliet."

"Oh." He said quietly. "That's right. I remember now."

"I should go." She said, when the silence between them became too oppressive for her to manage. "It's late, and I'm gonna get pulled away any minute now."

"Elizabeth . . ."

"No, I'm fine. I'm sorry about . . .I'm sorry I'm in such a crappy mood."

"I'm in a pretty crappy mood myself. I'm lying here in this big empty bed."

"Well, at least I won't steal the covers from you."

"Elizabeth, you okay?" He asked gently.

"Yes. Just tired and cranky. Remember when I was pregnant with Jason and had that complete meltdown over . . . I can't remember. What was it? Something stupid. Anyway, I was standing in the middle of the family room completely losing it, and you picked me up - and tucked me into bed."

"It was peanuts. I put peanuts in Stevie's lunch."

"Oh! How stupid! Peanuts! It's worse than I remembered it! That's right. She had a kid in her class who was allergic, and I went ballistic about it." She sighed. "You are a patient man, Henry McCord."

"Well, it was sort of my fault you were pregnant. Although, I can't lay claim to your exhaustion this time around, but if I was there, I would most definitely put you to bed. I'd probably even let you sleep." He said with a laugh.

"That sounds . . ." Her voice faded and he could hear the distant sound of voices.

"I better go." She said quietly. "I'll call you tomorrow, when I can."

"You mean today." He corrected. "Listen, babe, catch a little bit of sleep, you'll be able to function better when you do."

"I will. I love you, Henry."

"I love you, too."

She hung up the phone and rose, straightening her skirt as she did. She reached for her blazer and slid her arms into it, as she followed Blake out of her office and into the conference room, where her weary staff waited. Drawing in a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, and said, "How's the slumber party going? Any hijinks I missed?"

"Just your usual exhausted but brilliant minds pulling the world back from the edge of disaster kind of stuff." Jay offered with a shrug.

"Nice." She said nodding her head at Jay. "That's pretty damn sharp for nearly four in the morning."

"Well, ma'am, I've got a baby at home, so sleep hasn't been a part of the equation for awhile now."

"Way to look at things glass half full." She said with a smile. "Now, let's see if we can't arrange this deal, and grab ten minutes of sleep before the next crisis."


	5. Chapter 5

_Day Six_

Nadine Tolliver glanced up from the stack of papers in front of her as Blake stepped into her office.

"She's at the White House?" She asked him.

"No. I'm good, thank you for asking. Lunch was great. I ate a yogurt while going over a stack of paperwork." He said sarcastically, folding his long arms across his chest.

"You've spent too much time with her." She said exasperated.

It was probably on the second day of working with her that Elizabeth McCord had interrupted Nadine's morning rundown to pause and say good morning. Her insistence on hellos, good mornings and good evenings had irked Nadine at first. Nadine had always prided herself on running an efficient and professional office - no doubt desperate to make up for her obvious and glaring departure from decorum; sleeping with the boss. But after a few weeks of forced "good mornings" she recognized that the office she had run had been sterile and lifeless. Still, occasionally she fell back on hold habits - making demands on her staff with no preamble of greeting. She tried again.

"Blake! Good afternoon! How are you holding up?"

He grinned. "She's at the White House, yes. I'm leaving now to pick up her luggage."

"When did she pack?" Nadine asked, perplexed. "I thought she was going to do that at three!"

"Change of plans. She's got a high priority meeting at 3:15."

"But the flight is at 5:30! Or did we push the time back?"

"Same time. I think she had her husband pack her bags."

"Good God! That's relationship goals right there! I wouldn't trust my sister to pack for me! There's no way I'd have a man do it."

"Alright." Blake nodded at her. "I'm going to overlook your obviously sexist comments because a) I've got a lot to do and b) you haven't had much sleep lately. Wheels up will probably happen closer to 6:15. We will meet you at the hangar."

"I'll keep you posted, if anything else comes up." Nadine said, rising and following him to the door of her office.

"Great."

She was still standing in the doorway, as he stepped into the hallway, just as Matt came out of his office.

"I'm gonna go and pack." He told them. "I've got another draft of that speech for her." He handed a file to Blake. "Croatia is supposed to be gorgeous."

"The love child of Italy and France." Nadine said with a shrug. "Or that's what I've heard."

"Well, international diplomacy aside, it should be a smooth trip!"

"You did NOT just say that." Daisy said, stepping out of their shared office. "You did not say that out loud!"

"Oh my God!" Blake shook a finger at him. "What's the rule, Matt? We talked about this!"

"No." He immediately began to back track. "This isn't like Switzerland or Iran. I'm just saying that it should be . . ."

"Stop!" Nadine held her palm out to him. "Do not finish that sentence."

"C'mon! You aren't superstitious, are you?" Matt asked.

"If something happens, we are all blaming you." Daisy said, pointing a finger at him.

"It isn't superstition," Nadine pointed out. "It's just a simple fact: You don't tempt fate!"

"I make my own fate." Matt scoffed.

***MS***

"I'm counting on you, Bess." Conrad said, as Elizabeth McCord rose from the couch. "I'm hoping things can be settled calmly for once."

"You and me both, sir." She nodded her head. "But Peter seems pretty convinced that everyone wants some sort of agreement. It is just a matter of people trying to get a seat at the table."

"Let's hope so." He reached out a hand to her, and she expected him to shake it, but instead, he clasped her hand in both of his. "Seems like I signed you on to a pretty crappy deal, doesn't it?"

"Some days." She said with a laugh. "But then again, I never have to wait for a table in D.C. anymore, so I guess it has some perks."

"Few and far between. Are you going straight to the airport?"

"I've got one more appointment. I'm supposed to be at the airport by 5:30."

"Keep in touch."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

***MS***

Even though they had discussed it over the phone, Henry McCord couldn't help but feel crushed when he opened the front door of the house to see Blake Moran standing on the front steps.

"Well, I can see you are thrilled to see me." Blake said seeing the professor's expression.

"Sorry, Blake. I guess I was just hoping to see someone else standing there." Henry stepped back. "Come in."

"I don't blame you. We really tried to work a trip home into her schedule, sir. I mean, I tried everything."

"I know you did, and I appreciate it." Henry said.

Blake followed him inside and saw the Secretary of State's luggage neatly assembled in the entryway. "She asked me to make sure you packed The Sweater. She said you would know what she meant."

"I do and I did." Henry sighed. "Although, it is hard to call that thing a sweater!" Henry hesitated. "Well, I guess you better get her luggage to her - God help you if Elizabeth McCord doesn't have her blow dryer!"

"Yes, sir."

"Keep an eye on her . . ." Henry began.

"You don't have to ask, Dr. McCord, not that she needs looking after! But I will do my best and I am sorry things have been so hectic in the office."

"Well, that's not your fault." He turned to help gather up the suitcases. "Just remember, if anything serious comes up . . ."

"Text: Genevieve. I remember." He reached for a suitcase. "I had to look that up, by the way. I mean at first I thought maybe it was some nickname or something but then I remembered her saying something about your Saint Christopher's necklace, and then I realized that Genevieve was a saint."

"Patron Saint of disasters." Henry explained as he followed Blake to the curb, helping him out the luggage in the car.

"Well, let's hope this trip is disaster free." Blake said. "Is there anything else?"

"Well," Henry hesitated. "There's just one other thing. . ."

***MS***

They left her waiting in a small vestibule. It was strangely quiet and for those few minutes she had nothing to do. It was odd. She studied the picture on the wall - a pastoral scene that no doubt Henry would say represented something or other about God.

She sighed. She had seen Henry for a grand total of thirty-two minutes yesterday. In an act of utter desperation, he'd come down to her office between classes. She'd actually spent fifteen of those thirty-two minutes watching him out of the corner of her eye as he patiently waited for her to wrap up a meeting. In the end they'd actually had eleven minutes together. It seemed that just as soon as he'd wrapped his arms around her in the privacy of her office, there had been a knock at the door and Russell Jackson had made an unwelcome appearance.

"Oh, uh, I was . . ." He said as Henry and Elizabeth broke apart from a kiss.

"Don't you knock?" Elizabeth asked, completely exasperated.

"I did!" He said, a hand to his chest.

"I didn't say, 'Come in!'"

"You might have a point there." He shrugged. "I apologize, but we got another message from TAK and I need to go over it with you." He waited but neither Henry or Elizabeth said anything. They just continued to stare at him until he finally added. "Why don't I just wait out there until you are, uh, ready for me."

Henry began laughing as soon as Russell left.

"That was almost worth it!" He said.

"How can you laugh?" Elizabeth asked. "God! I could cry! I swear, Henry! This is getting ridiculous."

He stepped closer to her, running his fingers through her hair. "Ladies ought not to swear." He said kissing her.

"I'm no lady." She said sulkily.

"Yeah, you are." He kissed her again. "Look baby," He lifted her left hand, pointing to her ring. "That's there to remind you; forever." He shrugged his shoulders. "This is just a bad week."

"Weeks." She corrected.

"Month. Doesn't matter. That ring means sooner or later, you'll be right back here in my arms. Guaranteed, babe. So," He reached out and held her chin in his fingers. "Go solve another mess and hurry on home."

"Henry. . ."

"Elizabeth. Listen, being away from you is frustrating. It always has been but we'll manage and it's not forever. It just feels like it. I love you, you know it."

"I do." She sighed, surrendering to his logic. "I can manage, if you can."

"There you go! Way to tough it out, soldier."

"I'm no Marine." She said as he gathered his coat.

"I'm granting you honorary status. You've seen more battle than tons of guys."

"Oorah!" She said.

"Oorah, indeed!" He kissed her and wrapping an arm around her led her to the door. "Better not keep Russell waiting."

They pushed open the door to find Russell standing in the outer office.

"Thank you for your sage counsel, Dr. McCord." Elizabeth said with staged seriousness.

"Anytime, Madam Secretary." He nodded at her and passing Russell said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson."

"Henry." Russell nodded back. He immediately moved toward Elizabeth's office. "We got a cable a few hours ago and . . ."

He paused as Henry who had started to leave, suddenly doubled back and brushing past Russell, wrapped an arm around Elizabeth and pulling her close, kissed her passionately.

"Sorry." He said to Russell. "Forgot something." He winked at Elizabeth. "As you were soldier."

"See you back at base, Captain." Elizabeth said winking back. She turned to Russell who'd been rendered speechless. "Let's see this cable." She said leading him into her office.

"Well . . . Uh. . . Semper Fi." He finally managed.

Elizabeth laughed out loud when Henry's echoing "Semper Fi!" boomed back from across the office.

At the time, she had been disappointed to have him leave but expected to see him before leaving for Croatia. It had all felt like playful teasing leading up to a lovely night at home. Instead, she'd spent another long night in meetings, and crafting last minute changes. That lovely fifteen minutes was all they would have until she got back. It would have to be enough.

She glanced back at the picture, growing impatient. Some times it seemed she could actually feel the ticking of the clock.

"Ma'am?" Matt stepped into the room. "Everything's clear. If you'll follow me."

"Did she see you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Thank you so much for this!"

"Yes, Ma'am." He nodded at a door. "Right through there."

The auditorium was dim and she paused to smile and nod at Frank who waited just inside the door. She hesitated, adjusting to the changing light before settle into a seat, three rows back and slightly to the left of center stage.

They were a rather unruly looking group - forty or so high schoolers, some standing and some sitting on risers. The director tapped the stand with her baton, though, and the mob settled into silence as they all focused in on her.

"Okay, let's go ahead and do _Wait for It_."

Elizabeth was surprised when instead of groaning, they cheered. She was doubly surprised when a small huddle of students stepped down from their spots on the risers, Allison among them.

It was as the music started that Allison saw her, her large eyes giant with shock and pleasure. She lifted her hand waving, and all the years seemed to fall away, and it was as if she was watching a tiny Allison take the stage dressed as a shrub for her very first play.

She found herself lost in the song - the choir managing it well and then Allison stepped forward into a pool of sunlight and sang a solo:

 _I am the one thing in life I can control!_

 _I am inimitable. I am an original. I'm not falling behind or running late. I'm not standing still. I am lying in wait!*_

She was stunned at the power of Alison's voice; shocked that she hadn't told anyone that she'd been given a solo. Tears of pride stung her eyes, and she realized she'd almost missed it. It had come down to a choice: run home, pack and squeeze in a few minutes with Henry or sneak into Allison's rehearsal. She hated missing out on anything the kids did so Henry hadn't been the least bit surprised when she'd chosen to go to a high school choir practice.

One song was all she could really stay for but it was more than enough for her. She rose and walked to the front, mouthing a "Thank you" to the director who smiled and nodded even as she began to direct another song. Allison left her spot in the stage, briefly hesitating at her choir teacher before running down the steps to her mother.

"Mom! You came!" Allison beamed, engulfing her mother in a hug.

"Noodle, that was . . .that was beautiful! Why didn't you tell us you had a solo?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise! Don't tell Dad, ok?"

"I won't. You'll do great. I wish I could be there."

"You came today!" Allison grinned. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yes. I'll miss you, but I'll call in the morning."

Allison glanced over her shoulder. "I better get back. Thank you for coming, Mom. It was . . . You are the best! I love you."

"I love you, too. Look after Dad for me, okay?"

"Sure, Mom!" She hugged her mother tightly. "See you soon!"

Stepping back into the late afternoon sun, she blinked back tears as Frank led her to the car. Trying to gain control she asked, "Did Blake get my luggage?"

"Yes, Madam Secretary, but it didn't all fit. We had to put some on the seat."

"Didn't fit? How much did . . ." But her words were swallowed up in a whoop of joy as Matt opened the door revealing Henry inside.

"Did you know it takes forty-three minutes to get from here to your plane?" Henry asked with a grin. "Forty-three minutes! Imagine what kind of trouble we can squeeze in!"

"I can imagine a whole hell of a lot!" She said climbing into the backseat. "But you had a meeting, didn't you?"

"I did. I cancelled it." He slid an arm around her and she rested her head against his shoulder as the car pulled away. "Blake came for your bags and it all felt so wrong. I mean, I like the kid but I'm not giving _him_ a goodbye kiss!"

"How disappointing for Blake!" She laughed.

"And he pointed out that it would be a long ride to the hangar and that there would be plenty of room in the car, and I don't know, Babe. I just can't send you off for a week and not kiss you one more time."

"I'm so glad! Henry! I've missed you so much!" She leaned up kissing him.

"I've missed you too, but tell me about Noodle. Was she surprised?"

"Yes! She was so happy! God, she's so sweet - it just kills me. You are going to love the concert."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"I'm looking forward to this trip being over! It's terrible that I haven't left yet and I'm already thinking about coming home."

"Check your calendar, baby. You haven't been home in nearly a week already!"

She said nothing in response to this only clinging tighter to him.

"Oh, hey! Before I start kissing you and forget everything else, here, I wrote you a note." He handed her an envelope. "I was giving it to Blake to give to you, and that's when he suggested I hitch a ride with you. Save it for when you are the most homesick, okay?"

"Okay." She slid the note into her pocket and turned to thank him, but before she could, his lips were on hers and all other thoughts faded. She was so grateful for these stolen, unexpected minutes with him, but later she wished she'd hesitated just long enough to thank him for this tiny piece of home that became her lifeline on the most difficult of days.

***MS***

Author's Note

Thank you for all the kind reviews and for the patience! This was my first chapter that was written/published strictly by my phone. It's good to know I don't have to wait to wrestle the computer from children/husband in order to publish! Reviews are appreciated.

*Lin-Manuel Miranda - Wait for It from Hamilton


	6. Chapter 6

_Day 8_

ELIZABETH McCord waited patiently. She did not look at Khalifa Hafouri but rather out the window. Croatia was shockingly beautiful and she had every intention of returning with her family some day. Or perhaps, she would bring Henry here for their thirtieth anniversary - she could easily imagine them renting a small villa on the seashore.

"These stipulations are acceptable." He said at last.

"Wonderful! I look forward to tomorrow then. The United States is pleased that the TAK and the government of Turkey are so willing to meet together. Tomorrow will be an auspicious day."

"Indeed." He agreed, rising and shaking her hand. "Until then." He gave a curt nod and exited the room.

"Well, now that we've agreed on the seating arrangement," Elizabeth said to Nadine with a grin. "We can consider more important matters."

"The lunch menu?" Nadine asked.

"No." Blake said as he gathered up papers. "Nothing _that_ substantial just yet -napkin preferences are next."

He froze as soon as the words had left his mouth. He looked up, recognizing that the room was silent. "Oh, I, uh, pardon me, Madam Secretary."

But Elizabeth McCord only laughed and turning to Nadine said, "He's getting snarkier by the day."

"Your influence is powerful." Nadine grinned at her boss. "He railed against kale at dinner last night. It is as if he is your secret son."

"Oh, well, _he_ was most definitely sired by aliens." Elizabeth winked at Blake.

"Shh!" Blake whispered dramatically. "It's a family secret."

They all laughed and then Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the wall. "Do we have anything just now?" She asked.

"No, ma'am. Although you did tell Jay you wanted to have a strategy meeting before tomorrow."

"Yes, let's meet back at my suite at eight. That should give everyone a chance to get some dinner and maybe take a power nap."

They exited the conference room and as they crossed out into the fading light, they were surrounded by security and a small group of press. There were two SUVs but they all climbed into the same one.

"This place is really beautiful." Blake remarked as they drove along the shoreline.

"It is." Elizabeth agreed, but even as she spoke everyone turned to the phones in their hands.

"Well, that can't be good." She said, reaching for her phone in her pocket.

"Protestors in Hungary?" Nadine said looking up from her phone. "Americans?"

"Teenagers on a vacation is what I've got." Elizabeth said. "Blake?"

"The same. Three teenagers - two brothers, and their cousin, a girl. They were musicians, or something. They were playing a concert when they were overrun by a group."

"We need to know who they are, and why they decided to drag three American kids off with them." Elizabeth leaned back in her seat. "I was really hoping this trip would be easy."

Blake glanced over at Nadine, who paused from her frantic typing on her phone to raise an eyebrow at him. "Blake, since if we can get in touch with Ambassador Bell." She said.

"Kathleen Bell?" Elizabeth McCord exploded. "You've got to be kidding me! We better find out who has these kids, and who Ambassador's Bell's assistant is and quick, or this could get very bad very fast." She turned her gaze to the windows wishing that she were just a simple vacationer watching as her children played in the bright blue waters.

***MS***

"Explain it, please." Blake said as he shifted from his left to right foot. "And don't gloat that I'm out of the loop. I just need information."

"I'm sorry." Matt said with a smile. "It is just such a unique situation. I can't help but . . ."

"You are the reason we are in this mess." Blake interrupted, a long finger pointed at Matt's chest.

"I am not! It is Jobbik or Atka or possible some smaller unaffiliated nationalist party." Matt countered. "Look, all right, you are right. I never should have said anything about this being a smooth trip! But come on! No one could have predicted this!"

"Fine." Blake sighed. He glanced around the empty hallway just outside of the suite occupied by Secretary McCord. "But I need information before I go in there. She had a pretty strong reaction to Ambassador Bell's name, and I need to know why."

"It's no secret. You could google her name." Matt began, but then distracted by his own thought process, continued, "Why didn't you google it? You are generally very thorough and capable. That's kind of strange and . . ."

"Matt! Come on! Information."

"Kathleen Bell has no business being an ambassador. She was a beauty pageant contestant for the bulk of her young adult life, and then she married. Technically she is vice president of her husband's business, but it's just a title in name only. She doesn't work. But she was appointed by Bush to be ambassador to Hungary." Matt chuckled softly. "Rumor has it, that someone had to show her Hungary on a map after she was appointed. Of course, another rumor is that her husband was having a torrid affair with a supermodel and wanted her out of the country, so . . ."

"But why would she be appointed an ambassador?"

"Oh, her husband is Andrew Bell." Matt said.

"Okay." Blake said, clearly not recognizing the name.

"Bell Industries?" Matt asked, but Blake only shook his head. "You ever rented a UHaul?"

"No, but I get it. So how does that qualify her for an ambassadorship?"

"It doesn't, but her husband sunk a chunk of change into a couple of presidential campaigns and suddenly, she is our best choice to represent America."

"So, what you are saying is a former beauty queen is who is going to figure out a way to rescue three American teenagers?"

"That's exactly what he's saying." Elizabeth McCord stood just down the hall, in the open doorway of her suite, one hand on her hip, and glasses perched on the end of her nose."

"Madam Secretary," Blake began. "I'm sorry we were just . . ."

"I was just reviewing some background information with Blake and . . ."

"You were bringing him up to speed." She said with a wry grin. "Blake, you could ask _me_ , you know. I don't expect you to know absolutely _everything_. And it isn't as if Hungary's been on the forefront lately."

"No, ma'am, but it seems like something I should have already known." He said as both he and Matt followed her into the room, where her staff was assembled.

"Oh, I agree." She told him, sitting down, at the desk that was situated along one wall. Nadine, Daisy and Jay were sitting on two couches that were just across from the desk. "But I suppose you are allowed one mistake."

"That's very generous of you, ma'am." Blake stood at the edge of her desk.

"So," She said, looking up at her staff. "We are in the middle of some tough negotiations, and we've got three teenagers held hostage by an anti-immigration militant group, and Blake, here is slightly flawed - anyone got any ideas how we are going to manage all this?"

"Well, generally, we wait until you figure it out." Jay offered with a grin.

"That seems like a pretty inefficient system." Elizabeth said with a laugh.

"It beats relying on the former Miss Industrial Engineering." Blake said holding up his ipad, revealing a picture of Kathleen Bell sporting a bathing suit with a sash declaring her Miss Industrial Engineering of the Northwest.

***MS***

"You didn't tell me she had a solo." Henry said into the phone.

"She wanted to surprise you."

"Well, she was amazing. I'd like to tell you I got it on video, but I was so shocked that I never even got my phone out."

"That's alright, I heard her at rehearsal." Elizabeth said.

"You sound pretty tired."

"Well, I think it's 3 a.m." She sighed.

"Oh, good Lord! I'm hanging up. You need sleep."

"No, I can't unwind. My mind is going in about thirty directions."

"More like three thousand." Henry said with a laugh. "You could take a long relaxing bath."

"Henry . . ." She groaned.

"No, come on. I know how you love a good bath." He was laughing.

She hated baths. She remembered when the realtor had shown them the house in Georgetown - she'd been quick to show them the "most amazing tub" in the master bath. Henry, of course, couldn't stop singing the praises of the tub, winking at Elizabeth the whole time. It wasn't just that the idea of sitting still long enough to take a bath made her skin crawl, but she couldn't manage the very idea of a bath - she found the idea repulsive.

"Stop." She told her husband. "You should see the tub in this room, though - it's like a small swimming pool."

"Why doesn't a swimming pool bother you?" Henry asked her.

"It's got a filtration system, but honestly, you know me, I prefer the ocean."

"Oh, remember when we were in Long Beach?"

"Oh! That was fantastic! We never left the beach!"

"You never left the water!" He said laughing. "We should go back."

"How about tomorrow?" She said wistfully.

"I'm free." He waited for a response but hearing nothing, he continued, "You doing okay, Babe?"

"I'm fine."

"You really should go to sleep. You can call me tomorrow - whenever it is your tomorrow - don't worry about the time difference. I'll answer."

"I'm having a tough time sleeping. I don't know why. God, knows I'm exhausted."

"You are just overtired and don't have me to distract. I know how to put you to sleep."

She could hear his grin through the phone line, and couldn't stop herself from smiling or from imaging just what he was implying.

"Henry . . ."

"Okay, baby, I'll tell you what. I've got a lecture tomorrow on the impact of moral identity on warfare. You just lay back, close your eyes, and let me practice on you."

"Oh, but you are such a good teacher, Henry. I'll never fall asleep."

"You are the worst kiss-ass." He told her. "Listen to me, and you'll be asleep in three minutes."

She laughed, but even as he launched into his lecture, she felt herself relax; his voice warm, familiar and comforting. She was asleep before he even introduced his first point.


	7. Chapter 7

_Day 10_

Blake Moran hated exercise of any kind. He supposed his hatred of running and sports stretched all the way back to the playground, when his classmates had teased him mercilessly for his rail thin frame. He'd been awkward and ungainly and much more likely to sit on a bench with a book, listening as the older girls stood around talking. Despite his hatred for exercise, he was running now. He ran down the long corridor of the old Banski Dvori, which housed the Croatian government offices.

"This way." Jay said opening the door for him. "We just took a break."

He nodded at Jay who followed him into the room, where Elizabeth McCord was seated at a long, now empty table with Nadine leaning over her left shoulder. The two women were studying a document. She glanced up at Blake with bright blue eyes, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her expression, which was cheerful and relaxed changed seeing his face.

"Catch you breath first." She told him. "Then tell me."

He nodded his head at her, trying not to reveal how much the run through the long hallway had exhausted him. It felt like he was standing at the edge of the playground being judged for his athletic ability once again.

"They are willing to speak with you." He finally told her. "But it is a really brief window of time."

"Now?" She asked him.

He glanced at his wrist. "Seventeen minutes. They are setting it up in your room, so we need to leave right now."

"Alright." She rose, removing her glasses and sliding them into her pocket. "Nadine, can you . . ."

"I'll finish up here, and meet you back at the hotel later." Nadine said with a nod. "Jay go with her."

Blake led the Secretary of State out to where the black SUVs waited. He followed her inside the car with Jay just behind them.

"Ma'am, I sent you the reports you asked for, but did you have a chance to look them over."

"I did." She smiled at him. "Thank God for jet lag, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am." He agreed.

"Does anyone know about his phone call?"

"No. Just us." Blake told her.

"The tricky part is we need to negotiate with them without _looking_ like we are negotiating with them." She shook her head. "This would all be a lot smoother if we could count on our ambassador to handle this with a bit of finesse but that seems unlikely."

"Very unlikely." Jay emphasized.

"Alright, we'll try and muddle it through." She leaned back against the seat, and Blake was amazed as ever that she seemed so calm and relaxed. She was literally going from one crisis to the next, but gave no indication of stress. He hardly ever knew her to show stress - in fact the only times he could remember were immediately following Iran, and waiting for Henry to testify. She caught him studying her, and he turned to gaze out the window watching as bright blue waves broke against the pale sand.

***MS***

 _Day 11_

"It's Henry, ma'am." Blake said, holding a phone out to Elizabeth McCord.

"What?" She looked up from the file she'd been reading. "He didn't call my cell?"

"Your battery is dead." Blake explained.

"Oh, that's right." She reached for the phone, waiting for Blake to disappear from the room before answering.

"Sorry, baby." She said immediately. "The plug I bought doesn't work. Blake is getting me a new one."

"Hi." Henry said with a laugh.

"Sorry, hello." She smiled. "Things have been so . . . how are you guys?"

"We're fine." He told her. "It looks like you wrapped things up. So, you are heading home?"

Elizabeth sighed. She knew that he would be disappointed by her next sentence. _She_ was disappointed by her next sentence. She decided to try and delay the inevitable.

"We should come back here with the kids - or maybe without them. Everyone is right, Croatia is beautiful." She told him.

"Elizabeth . . ."

"We've got our last meeting this afternoon - they will sign the agreement, but something else has come up."

"So you are staying." Henry said flatly.

"Yes."

"I'm looking at my tv screen right now, and every channel is showing protesters gathering all over Eastern Europe." He pointed out.

"I'm perfectly safe." She told him. "Henry, I'm surrounded all the time."

"So, there are protesters."

"Things have become a little bit complicated over here, and people are gathering to express their thoughts." She said calmly. "But you can't stare at that tv. You know they exaggerate and get things wrong."

"Right." He sighed loudly. "'The Secretary of State was involved in a minor incident in Iran.' Stories like that really blow things out of proportion."

"Henry, don't . . ."

"I'm sorry. That was unfair."

She had to smile, despite her irritation and frustration. Henry was unfailingly good, and always quick to apologize. She stretched the tired muscles in her back, wishing she was home and they were curled up watching a movie, a glass of wine in her hand.

"No. It was fair. I should have called you. _I'm_ the one who is sorry. Tell me about the kids."

"Oh, they are fine. I'm keeping Ali away from the news, and Jason going through an epistemologistic phase."

"Like father, like son." She said laughing.

"Well, he leans more to the pessimistic side of things, so more like: like father, like opposite of father." He sighed, and paused. "So, you've got no return date?"

"Not right now." She admitted. "We have some things to clean up over here, but I promise you nothing dangerous."

He laughed. "Don't make promises you can't keep, baby. Besides, I know you are surrounded. I just don't like that you are beyond my reach."

"I know." She leaned back, glancing at the clock across from her. "Babe, I have to go, I'm sorry."

"Well, it's nearly 4 in the morning. I ought to try and get some sleep." He sighed.

The silence hung between them for a few long minutes. She knew that there were at least forty things she ought to say to him - truths she was holding back for his peace of mind. The most difficult part of their "new" life were all the ways she had to duck and dodge the truth - all the things she could never tell him. She hated it. Hated it with every fiber of her being.

She had been reluctant, at first, to leave the CIA, but it was precisely forty-eight hours after she'd left that she had been overwhelmed with an intense sense of relief. She hadn't realized until that moment how very much she had hated keeping parts of her life away from Henry. She was holding Jason in her arms and watching the girls run to greet Henry in the driveway, when a wonderful feeling of relief and joy washed over her. Henry was home after a long day, and there wasn't a solitary thing she couldn't tell him. He'd walked up to her a smile on his face Allison in his arms, and Stevie holding his hand. His smiled had faded slightly and concern washed over his face, as he saw she had tears in her eyes.

"What is it?" He had asked her.

She brushed at a tear, "No, I'm just . . . I'm really happy." She glanced at Stevie looking up at them with wide and curious eyes. "I'll explain later." Her face breaking into the widest of smiles as she leaned forward kissing him. "I'll tell you everything, later."

"Elizabeth? You still there?" He asked, breaking her out of her memories.

"Yes. I'll call you later, okay? My phone should be back on track tomorrow. I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay. Blake is easy to track down." He said with a laugh. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She told him. "I'm just disappointed. I wanted to be heading home this afternoon."

"Yeah. Me too. It's okay to call here even if it's late. Odds are I'm up."

"I love you, Henry."

"That's sweet, kid. I'm still on the fence, so you'll have to convince me when you get home." He said, smiling as she laughed.

"Bye, baby." She said, shaking her head.

"Bye, sweetheart."

She hung up the phone, and stood, reaching for her jacket even as Blake knocked on the door.

"I'm ready, Blake. You can come in."

"The car is ready, ma'am." He said accepting the phone that she handed to him. "Your phone is still charging, but should be good to go by the time the meeting ends."

"Thank you, Blake." She reached for a file, and glancing around the room followed him out of the door of her room. As she exited, she impulsively reached for the note that Henry had handed her when she had left. She hadn't read it yet; had nearly forgotten about it, but now felt that she needed to have it with her.

"Is everything ready to go here?" Blake asked her.

"Yes, but I might have left some things in the bathroom."

"I'll pack up the rest, then." He told her. "Frank decided it has to be by car. The airport is too unstable."

"I told you."

"I'm glad I didn't take that bet." He admitted as they strode to the car. "Is there anything else you need?"

"We've got that call later?"

"Yes, ma'am. You'll be travelling by then, but it should work out fine. The Ambassador is on vacation, so it shouldn't be . . ."

"She's on vacation?" Elizabeth's eyes grew wide, as she paused at the open door of the SUV. "She didn't think kidnapped American teenagers was important enough to interrupt her holiday?"

"Well, it makes it easier for us, doesn't it?" Blake said with raised eyebrows. "I mean you can't step on toes that aren't there."

She shook her head. "When did you become an optimist, Blake?"

"I'm sure it is temporary, Madam Secretary." Blake told her.

She was laughing as she settled into the seat of SUV, watching the bright light and blue waters of Croatia as they sped toward their final meeting.

"It is very pretty here." She said softly, wishing that she was walking barefoot through the soft sand, holding Henry's hand in hers.

 _***Author's Note***_

 _Well, I'm grateful for your patience! I had no intention of keeping you all waiting so long - assuming anyone is actually waiting for an update (LOL)! Sorry for the tremendous delay. I promise to update in a more timely manner, but as Henry cautioned, maybe I shouldn't make promises that I can't keep. Happy M'Sec Day!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Day 14_

"You and I both know that these kids were not representatives of the United States Government. They aren't terrorists. They are teenagers with a band." She said into the phone as the SUV rolled toward Hungary.

"Madam Secretary, I know very little other than the fact that our nation has become overrun with outsiders. It has become nearly impossible to determine who is a terrorist."

"I am not talking about broad generalities. I'm talking about a very specific case. These children were on holiday, and decided to set up an impromptu concert." She could tell from Blake's glance her direction that she had raised her voice.

"Well unfortunately, they set this up in the middle of a giant protest. They should have heeded the warnings given at their hotel and stayed inside."

"Have you seen their website? The band is named Daisies for Peace!"

"Be that as it may, the government of Hungary does not have them! We've take notes Americans hostage - as you imply!"

"No, but you have access to General Fari!"

"General! Ha! He's a rabble-rouser at best! Besides how important can all of this be to the United States? Your own Ambassador is sunning herself- she isn't harassing me with endless phone calls!"

"I'll stop calling you, when you put me in touch with General Fari or his staff. You've nothing to risk, except perhaps the strong and steady support of the US government."

"Madam Secretary, that sounds like a threat."

"I expect to hear from you today, sir." She glanced over at Blake with a weary look and hung the phone up.

"See, I told you, I would be nice." She said with a wink.

"Yes, ma'am." He agreed, pleasantly. "We should be there in another hour."

"Hmmm. What can we manage to accomplish in the next hour?"

"Well, my recommendation would be to use this time to contemplate the deeper meaning of all that has so far transpired." He told her with an earnest look.

"Contemplation?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, and he nodded. "You mean I should take a nap."

"That isn't what I said, ma'am."

"You know I don't think it is fair when you and Henry double-team me, and just remember Blake, one of you I'm tied to for all eternity, but the other one I can fire."

"Yes, Madam Secretary." He nodded, but grinned when she scrunched down into the seat, closing her eyes.

"I can hear you gloating over your victory." She said to him without opening her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am. I apologize."

***MS***

"Well," Nadine said, stepping out the SUV and glancing around. "It's no Croatia." She smiled at Daisy beside her, who had also just emerged from the car.

"I can cross another country off my list, though." Daisy said.

The two of them walked up to the third SUV that had just pulled up to the Boscolo Hotel an impressive building that loomed behind them. The waited as Secretary of State, Elizabeth McCord and Blake Moran exited the vehicle.

"Ma'am," Nadine said in greeting. "They just finished a sweep of the rooms, so we can head straight inside. Did you have any luck?"

"We have a meeting just outside Pesch in the morning." She told Nadine, pausing to frown at Blake who let out a quiet "humpf" as she spoke. "Although neither Blake, or Frank are content with the location."

"Why not?" Nadine asked.

"It is an area where there have been demonstrations." Blake said

"Doesn't that describe pretty much all of Hungary at this point?" Daisy asked.

Elizabeth said nothing, only giving Blake a look.

"I see your point, ma'am." He said.

"Ma'am, would you like to meet now, or would you prefer to rest first?" Nadine asked her.

"Now. I'd rather get some of this prep work taken care of, and then collapse."

"After dinner." Blake added. "You want to eat before you collapse."

"It's funny. You don't look a thing like Henry, but sometimes you sound just like him, Blake." She said turning from them and walk toward the beautifully ornate hotel. "Well, one thing can be said for Eastern Europe, they weren't kidding around when they built these places."

Blake turned to Nadine, as they followed the secretary inside. "What does that mean? Is she saying I'm unattractive?"

"Try not to let your insecurities show through, Blake." Nadine said with a laugh. "It's not your fault that Dr. McCord is a little bit more Superman, and you are more like . . ."

"Batman?" Blake suggested hopefully.

"Robin." Daisy said with a wink at Nadine. "Definitely Robin."

***MS***

Henry McCord stood beside the kitchen table studying the paper in his hand. He was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to interpret the instructions on her assignment. 

"Well, what did he say in class?" He asked Alison, who was watching him expectantly.

"It's due tomorrow." She told him. "That is literally the only thing he said. He handed it to us as we walked out."

"Well, it looks like you should. . ." He paused unsure, and study the paper again. "I think it says that . . ." He handed it back to her. "I don't know Noodle, can you call someone?"

"Someone? Who? A classmate?" She shook her head.

"Maybe they understand it."

"Better than a professor who has written nine books? Dad, if you can't understand it, do you really think a _fifteen year old_ is going to?"

"Well, it's been a long time since I did any chem homework. Where's Stevie? She was always really good at science."

"Work, and Jason already tried. That's how desperate, I am." She picked up the paper, studying it closely. "I just finally, finally got to the place where I think I understand math, and now I feel completely lost in chem." She looked up at her father, who was studying his phone. "I bet you've got a quote about the balance of the universe."

But he didn't respond. He just stared at the phone in his hand, his features suddenly completely blank.

"Dad?" She raised her voice. "DAD!"

He glanced at her startled. "What?" He cleared his throat. "I'll write you a note, sweetheart. I've got . . . I need to . . . Maybe you could just stay home tomorrow." He moved toward the stairs, and disappeared before she could even respond. 

"What?" She rose, shocked and suddenly worried. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, and listened to the sudden slam of her parent's bedroom door. She debated whether she should follow him upstairs, but instead went upstairs and into her brother's room.

"Hey, ever heard of knocking?" He asked from where he sat perched on the edge of his bed, his laptop on his lap.

"Why? You staring at pictures of girls?" She teased but glanced at the screen. "I thought you gave up on Tumblr."

"Whatever. Bains told me about this one blog that's pretty funny. Why are you bugging me? I told you I do not understand chemistry. Ask Dad."

"I did. But then he got all weird and went into his room."

"Weird? With Dad, how would you know?" He glanced up at her. "What?"

"I don't know. It feels like . . . something is wrong."

"You are paranoid. Stop being so obsessive." He set the laptop aside. "Ally . . ."

"You didn't see him. You go and try to talk to him."

Jason moved past her and stood in the hallway. He turned back to her. "The door is closed."

"Don't be a chicken." She said pushing him.

"Stop pushing me." He shook his head at his sister, and walked closer to his parent's room, and knocked on the door. "Dad? Hey, Dad?" But he got no response.

He turned to Allison, and seeing her face said, "He's probably just in the bathroom or something."

"Jason,"

"Don't. Allison, you are just freaking out because of . . .this isn't. Mom is in Croatia. Nothing happens in Croatia. I looked it up."

"If Mom is in Croatia."

"Do you stay up late trying to think of things to worry about? Jesus, Ally! Mom said she was going to Croatia. The news showed pictures of her in Croatia." He shook his head turning away from his parent's room. "I can't believe that everyone thinks _I'm_ the one who's paranoid! Just go do your homework." He went back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

She stood where she was a moment longer, between two closed doors, unsure. She wished that her father would come back out of his room. She wished that Stevie were home. She wished . . .

***MS***

Henry McCord didn't hear Jason's knock. He couldn't hear anything, but the rapid beating of his heart. He stared at the one-word text Blake had sent him: Genevieve


	9. Chapter 9

_Day 15_

Blake Moran squinted in the dim light of the small room. His ears still rang from all the noise. He felt it difficult to breathe and was finding it very difficult not to cry out in panic. He took in a great gulp of air and leaned forward.

"Ma'am." He managed. He leaned forward, and felt his stomach drop at the sight of her hand covering her knee, bright red showing through her fingers.

"I'm fine." She said firmly. "It's just a gash."

"We need a medic!" He called out behind him.

"Blake," She said, keeping her voice even. "I am fine. There are others who need the medic."

He glanced around feeling waves of panic rolling toward him.

"Blake." She repeated. "I need your help."

He could feel everything beginning to narrow and struggled to focus on the sound of her voice.

"I need you to help me." She said again.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded, turning back to her, and forcing himself to meet her bright, blue eyes. He removed his jacket and ripped the inner lining out, pushing her hand away and placing it over her knee. "Keep the pressure on it." He managed shakily. "What else?"

"I need to keep calm." She told him. "I can't . . . I need to stay calm. Can you help with that?"

He tried to keep his eyes on her, but he kept looking around. They could hear loud sounds above them, and felt shaking from time to time - he didn't know if it were caused by explosions or tanks. His heart raced, and again he felt his control slipping.

"Blake, look at me." Her steady voice drew him back.

"Did you see where . . ." He couldn't remember where Nadine or Daisy were.

"Frank told us, remember." She kept one hand on her knee and the other tight around his forearm. "We are all safe. They are on the other side of this bunker."

"That's right." He drew in another gulp of air, and turning saw his coat, minus the lining in his hand. He reached out, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Matt is . . ."

"He is talking with the commander." She reminded him. "We are all safe."

"Your knee is still bleeding." He said looking down.

"It's okay. Knees bleed a lot."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. I didn't . . ."

"This isn't your fault, Blake. And we are fine. I am fine. We just have to wait it out." She told him. "Now, can you help me?"

"Yes. What do you need?" He nodded at her, fighting tears.

"I need to breathe slow and even. You breathe with me, okay?" She waited until he met her eyes again. "Blake?"

"Wha . . . yes." He turned back to her. "I don't . . . how did it go?"

"In 1, 2, 3." She said to him, her hand still holding onto his forearm. "Out, 1, 2, 3."

He glanced around once more, before turning back to face her.

"C'mon. I just need you to help with this." She repeated.

"Right. In 1, 2, 3." He found himself breathing along with her. "Out 1, 2, 3." He tried to focus on all the things he had read to help her with panic. "In, 1, 2, 3." He said, his voice growing steadier. "You are in Hungary, but they brought us down into this old bunker."

"That's right." She said.

"There's an at least 200 soldiers between us and them." He continued, drawing in even slow breaths as he did.

"Yes. And it's just a small faction. They got us out in time. We are all safe."

He found her voice comforting, and the slow even breathing fed his panicked brain with oxygen. His vision cleared, and he could feel his tense muscles slowly loosen. The jumbled, frightening noises began to settle into a cacophony of voices, but he began to recognize some of them. He could hear Matt speaking to someone far away. Just to his left, he could hear Frank saying, "I understand that, but you can see she is bleeding. I just . . . as soon as a medic is available.

He turned to look at her again. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear, and fixed firmly on him.

"Thank you," She said to him. "I'm feeling a little better."

He nodded but then ducked his head, fighting off sudden tears. Overwhelmed by her kindness toward him, he looked down at her knee again, pulling the cloth back. The gash in her knee was deep and he could already see bruising. He was hit again with a wave of guilt.

"The bleeding has slowed down." He managed, huskily.

"It's stopping." She said gently. "It isn't your fault, Blake."

"The medic is coming over in a few minutes."

The both looked up to find Frank hovering above them. Blake took comfort in the sight of the tall head of her security detail. He knelt down to where they sat in a small corner of the concrete bunker, to take a closer look at her knee.

"Pardon, me. Madam Secretary." Frank said meeting her eye but she just grinned at him. He rose and took a step back. "Mr. Moran, are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes." Blake managed.

Frank glanced behind him. "He's just got one other soldier to look after, and then he's headed right here."

"As long, as there is no one else." She said. "It's just a skinned knee."

Frank shook his head, and met Blake's eye. "Pardon, me, Ma'am, but you've got a PhD, right? It's not an MD."

"I am Secretary of State, Frank." She pointed out.

"I am aware." He told her. "You are also the person, who ran _away_ from me - not forty minutes ago."

"Well, I . . ." She began, but Frank cut her off.

"Oh, I know what you were doing; what you did. My point is that unless you want me to pass that little fact along to the _other_ Dr. McCord, you better just sit tight and be unbelievably cooperative until we get you safely back on American soil."

Blake was too shocked to even look in her direction. He waited for her response, expecting an explosive outburst, but she said nothing.

"Blake, keep pressure on that." Frank said, and then stepped back from them. He stood with his back to them, his arms crossed, his eyes watchful. He could feel his stomach churn as he thought about the words _ran away from me_.

"It is NOT your fault." He heard her say again, but there was no time to respond to the ridiculousness of her statement because just then the medic moved past Frank and knelt beside her. He sat back from where he'd been crouch near her, leaning against the wall, the coldness of the concrete floor seeping up and into his very bones.

He rubbed a hand over his face, realizing too late that his fingers were covered in blood; her blood.

"Renkin!" The medic attending to her said. "Grab this kid. I think he's gonna puke." He indicated Blake with a backwards tilt of his head.

"No, I'm . . ." Blake tried to manage, but he turned from them just in time, throwing up into a helmet that someone slid in front of him.

"Take it easy there, pal." A soldier said, moving closer to him. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Blake shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"It's her blood." The medic glanced up from where he was bandaging Elizabeth McCord's knee.

"Ah." The soldier said, patting Blake on the back. "It's okay, man. Everybody throws up in their first firefight. It's the adrenaline and the stress." He handed him a water bottle. "Drink."

Blake took the water bottle, and the soldier moved away, taking the filthy helmet with him. He leaned back against the wall closing his eyes. It was the stress, and the adrenaline, but more than anything else it was the guilt.

***MS***

They had discovered that although, Hungary's beauty was not as stunning as Croatia, the food was delicious. The breakfast that greeted them all was enormous.

"Good golly!" Elizabeth McCord had exclaimed seeing the table spread with food. "Is there a gym in this hotel?"

"No gym in the world could counteract all this." Daisy said laughing.

"I better stick to the fruit then."

It was as they rumbled through the streets of Pesch, in the SUV's that Blake began to get an uneasy feeling. He wasn't really one to believe in premonitions, but he had awoken that morning from a strange dream - himself trying to run, but with his legs half-buried in sand. He couldn't move, and felt something deadly coming his way. He had brushed it off as too many countries and meetings in too little time. Jet lag did strange things to the brain, but an anxiousness seemed to cling to him.

They had stopped about a half-hour from their expected destination. Blake stepped out of the vehicle, surprised that they were stopping. Her security was always clear - get to each destination and never deviate. He looked around, and found that they appeared to be at an old abandoned army base.

"Why are we stopped?" He asked turning to Matt, who shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from a water bottle.

"They are still clearing the meet." Matt said. "I guess there's a group of protesters headed that way."

"Wait, I thought we were meeting with protesters." Blake pointed out.

"We are. General Fari is from Jobbik - they are adamantly against immigration into Hungary - so they are protesting the government's supposed acceptance of all these refugees. But there are tons of different factions - some more extreme than Jobbik - wanting all the "outsiders" to be killed. And there are other groups protesting these extremists." Matt shrugged. "Eastern Europe is a mess right now."

"And so we thought it would be a great idea to plop the United States Secretary of State in the middle of it?" Blake asked.

"Well, she was in the neighborhood so . . ."

"I don't think a few college kids with some signs and a megaphone, should prevent me from meeting with Fari, Frank." Elizabeth McCord said, stepping out of the SUV. "I understand your sense of precaution, but we can't be late."

"Ma'am, it's not just kids with signs." Frank told her. She sighed, and shaded her eyes, looking around her.

"Do I need to sit in the car?" She asked him.

"No. This is a secure area." He told her. "There are about 150 soldiers just a mile that direction running drills."

"Really?" Daisy asked. "American?"

"European coalition forces." He told her. "They are trying to manage the massive number of people flooding through Hungary."

"Well, it seems like this would be the ideal place for us to meet up with Fari, then, doesn't it?" Elizabeth McCord said with a wink at Frank.

"I believe I mentioned that." He told her.

"A few hundred times. Too bad the General didn't agree with us." She smiled at him. "I'm going to stretch my legs. Any direction off limits?"

"Don't go past that ridge." He pointed. "Unless you want to end up in the middle of a training session."

"I could play the part of a terrorist." She grinned.

"We won't be here much longer." He told her as she walked away. "Twenty minutes to get it under control or we are headed straight back to the hotel."

"It seems like it is safer here than the hotel." Daisy pointed out.

"It is." Frank told her.

Blake leaned against the side of SUV, feeling the warmth of the sun. It was early still and already hot. He kept one eye on Elizabeth McCord who was just about three hundred feet from him. A flat area of dried grass and dirt stretched out in front of them, but about another 500 feet from where the Secretary stood, the ground fell away into a lower valley. Just to the right of where he stood watching her, were a series of buildings - old barracks and offices.

He felt a sudden shift - as though storm clouds were suddenly darkening the sky - but it was nothing truly perceptible. He only knew that suddenly all his sense were alert and he was already moving forward toward Elizabeth McCord, at a half run when the air was filled with sound.

"Get the Secretary!" Frank bellowed. It seemed that everyone was shouting then, and he found himself running toward her.

She must have sensed something was wrong, too because she had turned and was running to meet him. He was never really sure if she grabbed his hand, or he grabbed hers. He just knew that they were both sprinting all out toward the DS agents who were running toward them, when he found himself knocked off his feet by a blast. At first he was sure he was dead, but found himself clambering back on his feet, and moving toward Elizabeth McCord, who had somehow managed to keep her feet under her. They rose and as they continued he couldn't focus on anything; didn't know what was happening - could make sense of nothing. He only knew that the DS agents and the safety of the buildings lay ahead.

He heard a shattering just to his left and looked down to see something burning. He felt another blast, and lost his balance again, realizing that it was some sort of handmade grenade. He gasped for air, and looking around saw Elizabeth McCord, pause in her run, looking back at him.

"GRAB HER!" Frank yelled to one of the other agents - for some reason Blake couldn't remember his name. "Get her now!"

He was struggling to rise again. He could tell by the set of her shoulders, that she would come to him - would try to drag him to safety, if he didn't get moving. He felt clumsy and slow, and he watched in horror as she turned to run toward him, and away from the safe buildings and the DS agents reach.

"BLAKE!"

He somehow rose then, and stumbling ran forward. This time he grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her forward, spinning her back in the right direction as they ran. His forward momentum propelled them across the dried grass and toward the concrete walkways that ran between the buildings. He didn't see the raised bricks along the edges. He was looking ahead, desperate and terrified. He pushed her forward, as hard as he could sending her straight toward Frank, but she was thrown off balance and fell forward her knee hitting the sharp edges of the bricks.

Frank scooped her up, and he felt himself pushed and pulled inside the building. The room seemed to fill with chaos as agents and soldiers poured into the room. He looked up and could see that she was standing upright. He only noticed then that she was barefoot; she must have kicked off her heels to run.

"Get her below!" Frank bellowed. "I want everyone down in the bunker until this place is secure!"

They began to funnel forward into a dark hallway, and down a narrow passageway that led to stairs. He hesitated a second behind, pausing to send a single-word text to Henry McCord.

***MS***

He felt a new wave of nausea wash over him, as he remembered everything. From the time he moved forward to bring her to the buildings until they were down in the bunker was less than ten minutes, but it felt like hours. Time had seem to stretch and bend. If he had known that there would be no way to follow up with another message, he would never have sent Henry McCord the text. Dr. McCord was no doubt frantic with worry. It didn't matter that they had been attacked by a small group of protesters or anti-protester protesters. It was all too complicated and he didn't even really care anymore. He just wanted the whole horrible mess to be over. He was furious with himself, ashamed that his inability to deal with the situation had not only left her vulnerable, but that he'd actually caused her injury. He knew Frank was angry with him. It didn't help knowing that they were no longer in danger - just patiently waiting to make sure that everything was 100% secure. DS was taking no chances now.

"It's too late for stitches, really." He heard the medic tell her. "I'm sorry ma'am, but your knee is gonna have a pretty nice scar."

"Well, they say a woman of my age, shouldn't wear anything cut above the knee anyway." She said with a wink at the young soldier.

"I don't know how old you are, ma'am but these are not legs that should be hidden away." He blushed even as he said it, recognizing a little too late that he probably shouldn't be talking about the United States Secretary of State's legs. "I'm so sorry, Madam Secretary, I . . ."

"Oh, that's alright. What happens in a foxhole, stays in the foxhole, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." He agreed. "Take this." He handed her a pill. "It's just Tylenol. It will help with the pain. We'll have to get you some antibiotics. You don't want that wound to get infected."

"Thank you." She told him.

"Yes, ma'am." He moved away from her.

"I am pretty sure I ruined your suit, Blake." She said holding up the bloody lining. "That was quick thinking, tearing it out." She leaned forward, and he was stunned to see her rise to her feet.

"Ma'am, you should . . ." He rose, and reaching out held her by her arm.

"Frank!" She called out. "What is the status?"

"Just four wounded, not counting you." He nodded at her. "You should sit down, Madam Secretary."

"I'm fine." She said, but she leaned into Blake who still held her by the arm. "We need to find away to reschedule the meet."

"Madam Secretary . . ."Frank began. "I do not . . ."

"There are still three American teenagers being held." She waved her free hand out in a wide gesture. "None of this changes that! This attack had nothing to do with Fari."

"Be that as it may, Ma'am. Things are far too volatile here to justify . . ."

"Things are far too volatile here not to do something about those kids." She said sternly. "The sooner that happens, the sooner we can all get out of here and head home."

If he hadn't been keeping her steady, Blake would've staggered backward in shock. Of course she would insist on keeping the meeting! Of course she would push herself relentlessly forward - focused on those in danger around her. She was unstoppable. He swallowed hard, trying to manage a fresh wave of panic. He wanted nothing more than to be on a plane headed back home - no he wanted to be back at his condo - safe. He knew how it would all play out - the long argument between her and Frank which would end with Frank coming up with some acceptable compromise. He understood he was under tremendous stress but stunned the both of them, as well as himself when he interrupted them.

"Look, Frank. Just figure out a way to make something work. She isn't going to change her mind. Everyone here knows it. If a group of forty kids with molotov cocktails don't stop her - what chance do you think one DS agent has? And she's right. These kids are in serious danger. This place is really unstable right now. Just set something up. It is the only way to get her home safe. She won't leave until this is finished."

"Blake." She admonished, turning toward him. "I don't need . . ."

"No, ma'am. You are right. You don't need anyone speaking for you, but we all know how this is going to play out and . . ." He stopped as Matt caught his eye from across the room, shaking his head.

"You might want to stop." Matt said moving closer.

"Yeah," He agreed. "Ma'am I apologize. I don't know . . ."

"It's been kind of a stressful day." She told him. "I'm willing to overlook it." She turned to Frank. "Can you please, see if there is something we can do?"

Frank nodded, curtly. "Yes, Madam Secretary. Just sit down for a minute while we figure something out." He walked away, as Matt dragged over a couple of empty crates before removing his jacket and spreading it over the top.

"Sit down, ma'am." Matt said.

She looked from Matt to Blake saying nothing, but allowed Blake to lead her to the makeshift seat. She sat down wearily. "Matt, I want this all kept under wraps until we get those kids out. I don't need a bunch of stories about this. Our priority is getting them home, understood?"

"Yes, Madam Secretary. I'll see what we can do." He reached out to squeeze Blake's shoulder before disappearing back down the hall.

"Ma'am, I apologize for earlier. I am really sorry."

"Blake, let's call a moratorium on apologies until we are home, alright." She shivered slightly, pulling the sides of his suitcoat which was still wrapped around her shoulders. He realized her feet were still bare, and thought of the icy cold of the concrete floor. He sat down where he was and pulled off his shoes.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "Blake . . ."

He peeled off his socks, and held them out in his hand - suddenly aware of how disgusting that might seem.

"I know it isn't . . ." He tried to explain. "I have shoes still but your feet must be . . .forgive me, Ma'am, but please put my socks on at least."

She said nothing, staring at him for a long minute with those piercingly bright blue eyes. She took the offered socks and slid one on her left foot but struggled to put the other one on - her swollen, battered knee making it difficult. Wordlessly, he took back the sock, and carefully lifting her icy foot slid on the sock.

"Well," She said, as he put his shoes back on his bare feet. "I have no idea what to say just now."

"Has that ever happened before?" He asked her, rising to stand beside her.

"No." She answered truthfully, and then they both burst into laughter so loud that nearly everyone turned their way. Even as he laughed, he could feel scattered tears forming at the corners of his eyes. His laughter stopped abruptly.

"I am really sorry, I knocked you down ma'am. I can't believe . . ." He said softly, trying desperately to keep his emotions in check. "I am just so sorry."

"I know you are, Blake." She said, reaching up and squeezing his hand. "And I apologize for not following protocol."

He met her eyes then, surprised by this admission.

"I know what I'm supposed to do." She explained. She rubbed a hand over her face. "This has to be the longest Tuesday, in the history of Tuesdays."

"I think it is probably Wednesday, by now Madam Secretary."

"A new day, then."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, then." She said with a wry smile. "Let's see if we can't make it a better one than yesterday."


	10. Chapter 10

Day 15 (continued)

Elizabeth McCord hung back at a distance and watched Nadine swallow Blake up in a hug with a tender kind of envy. Sometimes, the weight of being at the center of things was heavy. It felt a heavy burden to be the one to manage it all - to keep everything in neat little boxes. Right now, I am Secretary of State. Three young Americans and their families are relying on me. Her internal voice fought to reign in her wildly beating heart. Be the Secretary of State everyone needs right now. Later you can . . . later. From time to time she had to remind herself and force herself to put it all away. She had to manage it and do the job in front of her; no time for anything else. But truthfully, a hug from Nadine looked so comforting.

They had emerged into the brightness of the day and reunited. She had felt such a wave of relief to see her staff safe and unharmed that it had left her momentarily speechless. She had come to rely on her inherited staff and took comfort in the familiar faces and roles. Despite Frank's reassurances that things were completely secure, she couldn't help but glance around nervously. The sight of the troops surrounding them should have been a comfort, but she struggled for control as she remembered a different trip with different troops surrounding her.

"Ma'am," Jay's voice startled her. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I didn't mean to sneak up on you." He squeezed her arm gently. "I'm just pleased to see you are well."

"I am glad we are all safe." She said, keeping her voice even. She stepped forward, but still clad in Blake's socks, she stepped on a rock, and grimaced.

"You were hurt?" Daisy's voice was pitched higher than normal, and her eyes wide. "Ma'am, where are your shoes?"

Elizabeth's face softened, surprised that her sharp press secretary sounded more like Stevie or Allison, than her normal fierceness.

"I kicked them off to run and . . .Look, I'm fine. I just tripped in the rush to get inside. It's just a skinned knee really." She avoided Blake's eyes, understanding that however many times she might try to reassure him, he still felt guilty.

Her desire to rush back to him, and drag him inside with her, had surprised her. It was completely primal and instinctual; it had been the fierceness of motherhood. She had always appreciated his loyalty and his shocking ability to predict her next need time and time again, but hadn't understood just how connected she was to him, until she saw him surrounded by smoke, looking terrified, and trapped. Protocol in these situations was decidedly clear; her job was to go with the DS agents - no exceptions. Get to safety. Ignore everyone and everything else. On paper it was a reasonable policy but in reality it proved not only impossible but improbable. There was no way she was leaving Blake behind.

Looking up she could see the head of her security, Frank, making his way toward them. She was fully expecting to have a LONG debrief about her break from procedure but for now, Frank seemed focused on the problems before them.

"Ma'am, we are ready." He told her.

"Alright, thank you." She nodded at him. She turned to her staff who gathered around her in a semicircle. "We are still trying to reschedule this meet, but I think it best if we keep things very small - it will be easier for DS to manage. So, you are heading back to the hotel to get packed, and then home."

"No." Blake said adamantly. "I'm staying."

She turned to him, surprised. Blake was, by nature, a pleaser, and therefore, never defiant.

"And you can't go without your policy advisor." Jay said before she could respond. "We've already worked this out, Madam Secretary. Blake and I are staying with you and the rest are going back."

"Under protest." Nadine said fiercely.

"Under protest." Jay said with a grin. "But you are going back."

"Jay . . ." Elizabeth began.

"Ma'am, it's getting late. There's no way Frank is going to agree to any kind of meeting after it gets dark, so it would be better if you just went along with our little coup d'etat."

The sudden jangling of Blake's phone startled them all, and after glancing down, he held out the phone to her.

"It's Henry, Ma'am." Blake said.

"I asked that this be kept quiet." She said, suddenly angry. Their eyes widened in surprise at her tone, and they glanced at each other nervously.

"It was." Nadine said, quickly taking a step closer to her. "Daisy made sure. Nothing has leaked out."

"Okay."

She took the phone and, drawing in a deep breath, walked several feet from them before answering. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice but two decades of history made it nearly impossible for her to fool Henry.

"Hey." She said.

"Babe? You okay?" He asked her.

"I'm fine. What are you and the kids up to?" She bit her lip, frustrated by sudden tears. It was so good to hear his voice.

"The kids? Honey, I heard there was some sort of explosion just outside of Pesch. Isn't that where you guys were . . ."

"Oh, that was after we left. We are fine. I'm fine."

"It happened after you left?" He asked.

"Yes, we left."

Later, she couldn't remember anything else about the conversation. She knew they talked for a few more minutes, and that he no doubt told her that he loved her, but she didn't hear it. She didn't seem to hear anything he said to her, or remember anything she said to him - other than the lie. It hurt her. She was no child, and knew that at times lies were necessary. But Henry was her exception. She never lied to him; not if she could help it.

She stood a moment too long, after she'd hung up the phone, frozen and lost.

"Ma'am?" Blake said stepping toward her. "Madam Secretary?"

She blinked and swallowing hard turned toward the improbable scene of Blake holding a pair of black heels out to her, as Nadine stood barefoot just behind him.

"I'm ready." She said her voice solid and bereft of any emotion. "Let's go."

***MS***

Henry McCord slammed the phone down angrily. He was grateful that he was upstairs in the master suite where the kids couldn't here him.

"Damn it, Elizabeth." He muttered in frustration. He scrolled back through his phone trying to see if perhaps he'd imagined the text from Blake. Yet, it was still there. One word menacingly terse: Genevieve.

She was lying, of course. Blake was not perfect, but he made very few mistakes. He certainly never would accidently send a text like that. No mistake was made there. He studied the phone is hand trying to determine his next move.

Texting her would be pointless. She wouldn't respond or would only respond with lies or half-truths. He didn't want to push her into a corner. Working for the CIA like she had, lies were a necessary part of her life, but she never liked making them and generally had avoided them at all costs. She always said that he was the honest one, which was absolutely true. He struggled much more with lies - it was made his work with the NSA nearly impossible. He couldn't lie to her and sleep peacefully. He couldn't trick or manipulate people without it costing a great deal. And it wasn't that Elizabeth was dishonest or manipulative, but rather that she was far more practical than him. She did what was necessary for the greater good - even when it was difficult, or painful, or even dangerous.

He could feel anxiety pooling in the pit of his stomach. It was a bit too much like Iran; she on the other side of the world and him waiting, worried and unsure. The sound of her voice had done very little to reassure him - other than to make it clear she was alive; for now. He looked at the clock. It was nearly 8:30 p.m. which meant it was just after 2 p.m. He couldn't really expect a call from her until the evening her time - which would be the middle of the night. She would wait until it was early morning. He would somehow have to manage the next few hours; the next few days until he could look into her bright blue eyes and really know that she was alright.

"Dad?" Jason stood in the door of the bedroom. "Dad?"

"I'm sorry. What?"

"You said, you would be right back. We paused the movie. It's been like forty minutes. Are you coming back or not?"

He sighed, pushing himself up from where he sat at the end of their bed. "Yeah, bud. I'm sorry, I was just . . ."

"Talking to Mom. Jez, Dad. Try and develop some independence, dude." Jason shook his head and turned back to the hall.

"Right." Henry said following his son downstairs, to where the girls sat waiting. "You are the expert on relationships. I keep forgetting."

***MS***

Facing General Fari proved to be rather anticlimactic after all they had endured. He was a large imposing man, and was flanked on either side by a couple of bodyguards who looked like they could do some serious damage, but she was either too tired, or had been stressed for far too long, to let it really settle over her. She simply approached him as she would any other meeting.

Getting to the small village where they met, had not been easy. They had to change routes twice due to protestors and fear of violence. They also had to change the location yet one more time. They discovered, upon arrival, that a series of homemade bombs and attacks had also occured at the planned site.

Frank had turned around in his seat and glared her down as soon as he had passed this news along to her.

"So we should pick a different location." She said without actually looking him in the eye.

"Ma'am, perhaps . . ." He began.

"Three Americans." She said tersely. "Three children, really."

"Yes, and I am sure we could send someone else. The Secretary of the United States doesn't have to be the one to handle this." Frank pointed out.

"Who?" She asked with raised eyebrows. "Blake?" She indicated her assistant with a shrug.

"Ma'am," He said shaking his head. "I believe the American governmental system actually has a plan for situations like this." His sarcastic tone nearly made her laugh.

"You mean the Ambassador?" She threw up her hands. "That might be the most ridiculous suggestion I've ever heard. You expect us to leave the lives of those three teenagers in the hands of a beauty queen."

"Former beauty queen." Blake corrected her quietly.

"Blake, I didn't mean to imply that you aren't competent." She heard the ring of hurt in his tone. "I was only pointing out to Frank that I am here, and this is something that falls under my job description - not yours."

"I understood, ma'am. Although, I'm more than willing to . . ."

"See. Frank! Now, I've hurt Blake's feelings and he's going to try and throw himself on a grenade to make up for it. Just find a secure place, please." She told her head of security.

"Fine. But Madam Secretary, we are having a sit down when we get home. We need to talk about protocol, and roles."

"That sounds like it will be a lot of fun."

"Yes," He agreed. "You could bring a cake." Blake laughed out loud at this, and Frank turned toward him surprised.

"Trust me, Frank." Blake said wisely. "That would most definitely not be fun."

***MS***

Negotiating the return of the teens had been relatively simple. General Fari was more bark than bite. Still, seeing the brothers step out into the starlight, their cousin between them, filled her eyes with tears. She watched as they were ushered into the safety of the waiting soldiers. They would be on the next flight home. They would be home before she would be.

Riding back through the darkness to her hotel, she knew she should at least text Henry, but found she had little strength for it. She felt stretched to her absolute limit and couldn't even manage reading any of his texts. She knew just one word from him, and the dam would burst. It seemed as if she had been holding her breath for such a long, long time.

"Blake's asleep, Ma'am." Jay told her softly. He sat across from her, and she glanced to the corner where Blake lay huddled against the window sleeping. A half-smile covered her face as she looked at him.

"Good." She said.

"I'm nearly asleep myself." Jay continued. "So, if you wanted to go ahead and call home, we wouldn't be listening."

She felt her entire body stiffen at this; a forced control washing over her features.

"Oh, no. Thank you." She told him. "That's not necessary."

"Alright. Abby said there was nothing bout you being present during a protest, but she was worried. The news is filled with stories of unrest, and she knew it was right where we . . ."

"I'm sorry, Jay." She interrupted, her tone harsh. "I'm tired. I need sleep."

"Yes, Madam Secretary."

She leaned back in her seat resting her head, but she didn't sleep. She didn't even close her eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

_Day 16_

Elizabeth McCord drew in a slow steady breath and looked down at the phone in her hand. Henry's image flashed as the phone buzzed but instead of answering she slid it in her pocket and faced Frank.

"Ma'am," He said. "It really is the only option right now."

"What about the kids?" She asked. "Did they get out?"

"We lost contact." Frank told her. He was turned around staring at her from the front seat of the SUV. Every time they talked like this she wondered if it gave him a crick in his neck. Henry had pointed out that it was unfair to make Frank sit that way - his neck strained, but she pointed out that Frank was well-aware of her tendency toward kindness, and that perhaps it was his way of tilting the balance toward his side. He turned to face her now, his neck strained awkwardly. "We aren't waiting around to hear from them. You getting trapped won't help them. We are going to the airport now. "

"Fine." She settled back against the seat. "I'll be more than happy to head home." Her own voice sounded strange and bitter. She closed her eyes, exhausted.

"Ma'am," Blake's voice was soft and gentle. "Here."

She opened her eyes to see him holding out a water bottle. She couldn't help but smile as she took it from him. Blake always seemed to know what she needed - sometimes even _before_ she did.

"Thank you, Blake." She lifted the water bottle to her lips as the car sped through the streets of Hungary.

She tried to relax. She was exhausted; had been up for two days now, but she felt anxious and unsettled. She could feel the phone vibrating again, and recognized that Henry was probably worried that she wasn't taking his calls. She reached into her pocket, and glancing at Blake who turned and looked out the car window, she lifted the phone to her ear.

"Hi." She kept her voice bright and cheerful.

"Babe!" Henry's voice was tense. "I am really glad to catch you. It is great to hear your voice. You guys okay?"

"We are fine." She said evenly. "We are actually heading out to the airport, so you should be seeing me pretty soon." Her voice faded a little at the end of the sentence, but she covered it by coughing.

"Good. I will confess it to you now, the news over here is making things look pretty volatile over there. I'll be glad to know you are out of there."

"There have been some protests, but you know the press."

"But you guys are okay?"

"Yes, but Henry, I should go. Don't worry. I'm fine." She looked up just in time to see Blake glance her way just then, but he immediately turned crimson and turned back to looking out the window.

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll talk to you soon. Call me from the air."

"Sure."

"I love you, babe. I'll talk to you soon."

"Love you, too." She hung up the phone, and exhaling leaned back against the seat again.

The car remained quiet and she was grateful that only Blake was riding with her. Daisy, Nadine and Matt were already at the airport, and Jay had fallen asleep in the car just behind them. They had decided to let him have the car to himself so that he could stretch out his long legs, and really sleep. No doubt he was experiencing some of the best sleep he'd had since the baby had been born.

It was unsettling not knowing if they had actually been able to get the kids out of Hungary, but she knew they were safe at least. They had been taken with the Marines who had rescued them. Losing contact wasn't necessarily a bad thing - they were keeping their movements a secret so as to avoid any other protests and press. They probably wouldn't hear from them until they were someplace safe.

"I have chocolate." Blake said, interrupting her thoughts. She opened her eyes and turned to him.

"How do you know I wasn't asleep?" She asked.

"You're shoulders were too tense." He blushed as he shared this observation. "And it isn't that you snore, ma'am, but you _breathe_ very lightly."

"Uh, huh." She reached out accepting the proffered chocolate. "Can you pinpoint for me the difference between stalking and being a good assistant?"

"It's a fine line, Madam Secretary." He said with a smile.

"Very." She agreed.

***MS***

Blake Moran turned back to look out the window, understanding that the last thing Secretary McCord wanted was her assistant watching her every move. People generally commented on his psychic-like ability to predict his boss's needs.

"How do you do that, man?" Matt had asked him once.

He hadn't responded. He was completely tightlipped not only about how he was able to predict her next move, but on his thoughts regarding her in general. Honestly, though, she wasn't that difficult to figure out. Elizabeth McCord only cared about two things: Her family and doing what was best for the country. Actually, she only cared about one thing: her family - ensuring the world was a better and safer place was just a byproduct of that. It was really the only thing he needed to know about her: she was always motivated by the need to do the right thing - the thing that would make the world right for Stevie, Allison and Jason.

Understanding this underlying motivation made it easy for him to put himself in her shoes and know what she would want next. Of course, they had more in common than most people knew, and a history that no one ever bothered to ask about.

He was a junior in college the first time he ever saw her - falsely assuming that her class on the United States Involvement in the Middle East would be both easy and interesting. The class _was_ interesting, but not the least bit easy. He'd actually flunked the mid-term. By the end of that semester it appeared that passing the class would be impossible, but at that point he was already failing every class. In fact, her class was the only one he was still attending. He was simply waiting for the school to ask him to leave.

 _He had been sitting in the library, staring out the window no books in front of him at all, when he'd been startled to discover his professor standing beside him._

" _Blake." He looked up at her but it took him a long moment to respond._

" _Dr. McCord." He had said, shocked into talking for the first time in days._

" _Do you mind?" She asked, indicating the chair beside him, and he shook his head. He had expected her to reprimand him for doing so poorly, for not turning in assignments. He expected her to scold him. He waited for the inevitable._

" _You look terrible."_

 _His eyes widened in surprise, and she must have recognized his shock because she immediately blushed._

" _No. I'm sorry. I . . . that was rude. But you always look so put together. It's shocking to see you so undone."_

" _I think I missed your class today." He suddenly realized that he'd stopped in at the library on the way to her class, but had never left._

" _You did." She agreed and then she said nothing more. She turned to gaze out the window, watching the rain fall. They must have sat together in silence for thirty minutes when at last he found himself turning to her and speaking._

" _I'm failing all my classes." He confessed._

" _I know - although technically you've got a D- in mine."_

" _I can't seem to manage things just now."_

" _Of course not." He turned to look at her, surprised by the intensity of her voice. "Are you hungry? I bet you haven't eaten in days. Why don't you let me buy you lunch?"_

" _Oh, no, Dr. McCord, I . . . I couldn't." But she was already rising._

" _Grab your backpack, Blake."_

 _He followed her across the campus and into a nearby cafe. He found himself at a loss for words and was completely flustered when the waiter came._

" _I'll have an iced tea and the Chef salad, and he will have," She paused briefly here. "You aren't a vegetarian, are you?" He shook his head. "Okay, he will have the steak platter and an iced tea."_

" _Dr. McCord I . . ."_

" _I'm sorry. That was bossy of me, but I thought it might be easier for you. You seem the type to order a bowl of soup just so as not to spend too much of my money." She smiled at him. "I'm sorry, you just look so thin and I . . ." She said nothing more, and thankfully the waiter arrived with their drinks._

 _It was as he looked down at the ice tea that he felt tears sting his eyes. He felt panic; afraid that he would completely fall apart in front of his college professor and an entire restaurant full of strangers. He started to rise out of his chair, saying, "Ma'am . . . I'm so sorry . . .I . . ." But her hand clamped around his._

" _It's alright, Blake." Her voice was soft. "There isn't anyone else here. It's okay."_

 _He covered his eyes with his free hand, unspeakably embarrassed, but she said nothing else, her hand still on his as he fought to regain composure. When he could finally look up again, she wasn't looking at him, but staring out the window. He waited, expecting the same sort of pity and cheerful platitudes people had been giving him for weeks now._

" _Blake, I was wondering if you would be interested in becoming my assistant."_

 _He looked up at her wide-eyed. "But . . . isn't that . . . don't they assign you a grad student?"_

" _They do, but mine isn't very . . . I need someone organized."_

" _I didn't even remember to go to class today." He pointed out feeling strangely argumentative and angry. Fortunately, they were interrupted by the waiter just then, and he turned his anger on his lunch, eating far too much; far too quickly._

" _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."_

" _I'm not . . ." He sighed, setting his fork down. "I'm sorry. You've been very kind. You don't want to hire me as your assistant. I'm not qualified. I'm not even sure if I am staying at school. There is so much to think about and I'm not managing things just now."_

" _Of course you aren't." She told him again. The compassionate tone in her voice caused him to look up at her. Her eyes were bright, but her voice was composed._

" _When I was younger than you, I lost both my parents. And I . . ." She glanced out the window. "It was a really horrible time. I felt so alone. No one can understand it; the very ground beneath your feet seems to fall away." She shuddered and turned to meet his eyes. "I have a brother but even still. I felt so lost. I felt completely alone. I couldn't focus on anything; could form words; couldn't seem to understand what people said to me. I just sort of wandered around in a daze that whole year. I remember so little of that time - I remember learning they were gone and those horrible, horrible first days afterward, but the rest of that time is empty to me. And it isn't as though I can't remember events - I can, but I don't remember myself in them."_

" _I . . . I . . ." He found himself at a loss for words._

" _Listen, if you leave school, that's understandable, but if you do stay. I'd really like you to be my assistant. I know you'll do good work, and I hope you don't mind it, but I'd like to keep an eye on you." She smiled sadly at him. "I'm so very sorry about your mother, Blake. I truly am. I know that she was all the family you had and I know there's nothing anyone can say that will . . ." She sighed softly. "I don't expect an answer. Now is not the the time, but when you are ready. You can contact me."_

 _He hadn't been able to respond to her just then. Lost in a grief too fresh and painful to express, and overwhelmed that someone, someone understood how disconnected and numb he felt. But of course he'd been at her office door two days later, a vanilla latte in his hand._

"Why are we circling?" The sharpness of Elizabeth McCord's tone, drew him back to the present, and he sat up to look out the window.

"Isn't that the airport? I think I can see our plane." Blake said.

"Frank?"

"Madam Secretary, we are assessing the situation." Frank told her. "There were rumors of protesters.

"Aren't Matt, Daisy and Nadine already at the plane? Why don't we contact them?" He pulled his phone out of his suit pocket and began dialing Nadine Toliver's number, but even as he did, the car's speed increased, banking right, throwing him sideways along the seat.

"We need to get to the plane, right now." Frank told them.

***MS***

Elizabeth McCord looked across the car at Blake's pale face, and drew in a steadying breath. _Slow breath in and slow breath out._ It was a mantra she'd been telling herself nearly constantly lately. The only upside to all those sessions learning to deal with PTSD was that she was fully prepared for dealing with all the unthinkable things that had rolled her way since taking office.

"Deep breaths, Blake." She told him, sliding off her heels. "We can do this. We just have to run from point A to point B. We can do that."

"Yes, Ma'am." He agreed.

"Twenty seconds." Frank said from the front seat. "We get out first. Then the Secretary. Then you Blake."

"Yes." Blake nodded.

"Then we run like hell to the plane." She smiled at him.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You got any more of that chocolate?" She asked him.

"Ye - es." He looked at her completely puzzled, but reaching inside his pocket.

"Not now. On the plane."

"Ten seconds." Frank said.

The car slowed, and the doors swung open. She could see nothing except for the dark suits of the backs of the agents in front of her. She couldn't see Blake. She couldn't see the plane for that matter. She could hear yelling, but nothing distinct enough to be words. Even as she was shoved, not too gently, up the stairs of the plane she even attempted to look behind her wanting to make sure Blake was safe. But even as she turned Bill, the agent directly behind her reached out and pushed her shoulder.

"Keep moving." He barked at her.

In the briefest glance she could see the top of Blake's head, and sighed in relief that he was just two steps behind her. It was in the small second of looking back that she slammed her already injured knee into the stair, and the sharp stabbing pain that shot through her body caused her to cry out. And so, her last view of Hungary was of Blake Moran, actually leaping over an agent and lifting her up and onto the last step as the doors shut behind them. He stood panting at the top of the stairs, his hand still gripping her upper arm, as wide-eyed and shocked Nadine Tolliver greeted them.

"Madam Secretary, are you alright?" Nadine asked.

"I'm fine." She responded, but she had to bite her lip against the pain, and found herself leaning against Blake. "I hit my knee on the step." She turned to Blake and couldn't stop herself from laughing at the sight of her assitant. His tie was askew and his normally perfectly coiffed hair was a wild mess of curls.

"You okay, there, Blake?" Matt asked, reaching out to clasp his shoulder.

"I . . . I . . . Did I . . ."

"You jumped, up and over, Bill which is pretty damn impressive." Frank said shaking his head at Blake. "And one hundred percent unnecessary."

"We appreciate the backup, though." Bill said with a laugh.

"Madam Secretary," Nadine said, reaching out to put a hand under Elizabeth's arm. "Come sit down. Your leg is bleeding."

"Why aren't we in the air?" Blake asked Matt.

"Well, we are surrounded. There's a pack of protesters at either end of the runway." He shrugged.

"We are waiting for the runway to be cleared." Frank said. "Madam Secretary, they estimate thirty minutes at most."

"Blake," Nadine said to him. "Get the first aid kit. Her stitches have opened up."

Elizabeth McCord looked down at her knee which was covered in blood. She remembered the time that Stevie had fallen off her bike, a huge gash in her knee. She had nearly fainted from the blood and stood momentarily frozen in shock, but Henry had immediately cleaned the wound and wrapped it bandages. She wished he were here now to lift _her_ up, carry _her_ to the car, and buy _her_ ice cream after she got stitches.

"Take these, ma'am." Daisy handed her two pills. "It's just some Tylenol, but it should help with the pain."

"It doesn't hurt." Elizabeth said, accepting the pills.

"Well, you are probably in shock." Nadine pointed out.

"I might be." She agreed. "Blake?"

"Yes, ma'am?" He leaned in handing the first aid kit to Nadine and she felt a sudden wave of comfort at seeing his familiar worried face. "Do you have that chocolate?"

He broke into a wide smile, and reaching into his coat pocket handed it to her.

"You must be off your game. I had to ask for something." She grinned up at him.

"Well, it's been an unusual day, Madam Secretary." He reached up smoothing his hair back into place.

"That's an understatement." Matt said. He handed her a bottle of water. "Or do you want something stronger?"

"Water for now." She told him. "Daisy?"

"Just local news coverage, but I imagine an outlet will pick it up soon, Madam Secretary." Her press secretary answered quickly. "Do you want us to release a statement?"

"Yes. Let them know that we are on board and headed back home." Daisy raised an eyebrow at this. "It will take some wind of that protesters sails. Anyone coming to join them will see it as already over, and it nearly is, right Frank?"

"Yes, Madam Secretary." He called from the front of the plane where he stood with a radio to his ear. "Probably another twelve minutes."

"See." She smiled at Daisy.

She had shifted so she sat with her leg up on the couch that ran along one side of the plane. Nadine sat opposite her, and had cleaned and re wrapped the wound on her knee, and was now sliding a pillow under her leg.

"You were a nurse in your past life?" Matt asked.

"Every mother knows how to clean a skinned knee." Elizabeth McCord said with a warm smile at Nadine. "Isn't that right?"

"It is." Nadine agreed with a grin.

"Mother? You've got a kid?" Matt turned to Nadine in surprise.

"The things you don't know about me could fill volumes." Nadine told him. She turned back to her boss. "I'm going to wash up. Would you like a blanket?"

"Yes, please." She was just about to close her eyes when Blake came back into view. His hair was now almost perfectly back into place. He held a pair of socks in his hands.

"Yours?" She asked him with a laugh.

"No, ma'am." He shook his head. "I got them from your suitcase."

"That's a relief." She reached out taking them from him, but winced as she moved her knee.

"Let me." He said taking them back. He took the socks and slid them onto her feet. "If this is going to be a regular thing, ma'am, I think we will need to take another look at my contract."

"Yes, but you can consider this time your punishment for breaking protocol and trying to throw me onto a plane." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, you broke protocol earlier, so we are even." He responded quickly.

"That's a fair point." She agreed.

"Will you need anything else, Madam Secretary?" He asked rising to stand beside the couch.

"Not unless you plan to remove the protesters from the end of the runway and fly us home, yourself?"

"No, ma'am. I was thinking I might sit down for a minute or two. It's been an unusual day and I'm a little worse for wear.

"You and me, both, Blake." She nodded at him, and he paused to squeeze her shoulder before disappearing from view.

She leaned back against the pillow, too tired to even worry about the crowd outside. If there were more danger she was too exhausted to care. She didn't even bother to open her eyes as Nadine put a blanket over her legs. Her knee throbbed now, as the rush of adrenaline began to wear off. She was tense and edgy, worried that the status of the brothers and their cousin, was still unknown, desperate to return home, but dreading facing Henry who would not appreciate how many times she'd lied to him in the last forty-eight hours. It was only then that she remembered the note he'd given her, and reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she pulled it out. It was as she read the very first line that she heard Frank say, "We are cleared for take off," and almost the exact same time that Daisy said, "The kids just landed in Germany."

"Good." She said to both of them, and turned back to the brief, sweet note her husband had penned as the plane moved slowly forward carrying her home.


	12. Chapter 12

_Day 17 (Continued)_

Henry dropped Jason off at school with every intention of going into work, but instead circled back to the house. As angry and frustrated as he was, he couldn't shake of the look on his wife's face as she stepped through the door; home at last. He recognized that part of his anger, and even his reaction to her return was overlaid with the all too recent memory of another trip. One of the reasons that she'd withheld information from was probably _because_ of Iran. She didn't want to open that wound for him, and probably didn't want to admit to herself how truly frightened she had been. Or maybe she wasn't frightened at all - maybe her avoidance and eventual outright lies were just an attempt to keep him calm until she could return home - a way to keep her unreasonably hysterical husband pacified until she was back.

There was a part of Elizabeth that was like steel. It wasn't just that she maintained a strong image in public. She _was_ strong. It wasn't an act or denial. There was a part of her that could remain unaffected and unmoved. He understood that it stemmed for the deepest of hurts and her early understanding that life could deal the cruelest blows to the most innocent of people. She had learned very young that sometimes you just had to get up and keep moving - even if your heart was shattered; even if you had nothing left; even if you were all alone.

It had bothered him at first. He didn't know how to process this impressive unyielding strength. He had told her very early on, "You don't have to pretend with me; you can let go." She had simply stared at him with those brilliantly blue eyes and said flatly, "I'm not pretending, Henry. I really am fine." He hadn't understood it - not really. After all, his parents were living - had been with him through his entire childhood and well into his adulthood. It wasn't until they'd had Stevie that he had begun to even remotely understand how much this loss had shaped her. "She depends on us for everything." He told Elizabeth as he held a tiny, sleeping Stevie on his chest. "She's so little and helpless, and the only thing she knows about this world is that we are here and we love her." He studied his wife's face in silence for a long minute. It was as if he were truly seeing her for the very first time. "You lost the earth beneath you." He said as understanding dawned on him. "You lost your center."

"Yes." Her response was a whisper but it felt more like a prayer to him.

"I didn't understand it." He said, his brow furrowed in shame. "I thought I did, but I didn't."

"It's fine." She said, as he reached for her hand. "I don't expect people to understand. It isn't something that . . ." She sighed, and ran a hand over Stevie's forehead. "I don't want to be in the field anymore. I want to be at a desk."

That practicality was so typical of her. Here was this deep emotional moment - a revelation for him, and a moment of true connection for the both of them, but she could immediately move to the conclusion of that moment. She could be practical about her own pain. She would never put her own child in a position to feel that same wounding loss. She would sit at a desk in a building because that was safer - never imagining that a group of terrorists would one day choose buildings as their target.

He pushed open the door to the house, relieved to see her security detail still waiting outside. She hadn't gone into the office. The house was silent Stevie had left for class, dropping Ali off at school on the way. He climbed the stairs feeling the weight of gravity with every step. He expected to see her curled in bed asleep, and was surprised to find the bed empty. He was about to turn and head back downstairs to search for her, when he realized she had fallen asleep in the chair beside their bed.

His shoulders sagged, and he couldn't fight the wave of protectiveness that washed over him. She seemed smaller when she was asleep - especially tucked into the chair like that. He went to her then, first throwing back the covers on their bed and then turning to slide his arms under her and lift her into bed. She stirred, wincing as his hand brushed against her knee.

"Henry?" Her eyes didn't open.

"Yeah, babe. Just sleep."

He set her down in bed, noticing for the first time that she was wearing _his_ t-shirt and _his_ pajama bottoms.

"Henry, I'm really sorry."

"I know you are. Just sleep, okay. We can talk later." He sat down beside her, intending to pull the covers up and around her, but needed to see she was truly alright. He slid the pant leg of the pajamas up and was horrified to see her knee - swollen, black and purple with bruising and wrapped with a bandage. He felt sick to his stomach. He slid the pant leg back down, and pulled the covers up around her. He brushed a light kiss on her forehead before heading back downstairs.

He should have crawled into bed beside her; He should have stayed where he was and waited for her to waken. He could've gone into work or run five miles to burn off his restless anger. He had plenty of options. Hell, he could've called Dr. Sherman - she was always willing to take a call from the McCords, but he was exhausted and his nerves were frayed, so he was prone to bad decision making - which is how he ended up unleashing his fury on an innocent, kind-hearted twenty-nine year old assistant.

***MS***

Blake Moran had gone into the office, despite the fact that Secretary McCord had specifically and clearly given him the day off. He had slept late, and didn't make into the office until nearly nine. He figured that a day with the Secretary home would mean he couldn't finally get caught up on all his paperwork. He also figured that it was a good way to make sure she didn't come to work.

He was not surprised to see Nadine in the office. He sometimes wondered if she ever went home.

"I thought she gave you the day off?" She asked as he passed by her office.

"I thought she gave us all the day off." He responded.

"Looks like some of us don't take orders very well." Nadine said with a wink. "There's coffee."

"Thank you, ma'am." He nodded at her.

He hadn't been at work very long when she sent him a text.

-Good morning. I hope that you are resting today.-

-Yes, ma'am. Feels more like good evening, though, doesn't it? How are you feeling?-

-You are at the office, aren't you?-

Blake sighed. Having a boss who was ex-CIA made life exceedingly difficult sometimes.

-I just stopped in to catch up on some paperwork.-

-I'm sure. Well, at least your insubordination is useful to me. I left a stack of files on my desk. Would you mind bringing them by the house?-

-Yes, ma'am. Do you need anything else? I could get some of that soup from that place over on 6th street.-

-It's 9:30 in the morning.-

-Oh, I know the chef's number. He wouldn't mind it.-

-The files will be fine.-

He found himself on the steps of the McCord residence an hour later, with the files tucked under his arm, and a bag that held the soup, fresh bread, and some of her favorite tea. He'd learned early on that Elizabeth McCord's only weakness was food - particularly baked goods, English teas, and anything made with cream. He was relieved that it was Dr. McCord who opened the door, and not the Secretary.

"Oh, good. I hope this means she is actually resting." Blake said with a smile.

"Why are you here? She's not going into to work."

Dr. McCord's unfriendly tone should have given him pause, but he was still jet-lagged and exhausted. They hadn't been home for even eight hours. He imagined he was still hopped up on the entire experience.

"Oh, she sent me a text and asked for these files, and I picked up some soup for her . . ."

"What is wrong with you?" Henry McCord stood in the doorway, his hand on the door. "She just got home! For God's sake! Can't you just leave her alone."

"I . . . well . . . yes, sir, but . . . I was . . . she . . ." Blake was completely flustered.

"What even happened? I understand everyone else ignoring her safety, but c'mon Blake! I thought I could count on you! Why did you let her stay there! It was dangerous! She could've been killed! Don't you even care?"

Blake stood frozen completely at a loss for words. He waited expecting Dr. McCord to continue his tirade or maybe even hit him.

"Henry."

They both turned to see Elizabeth McCord standing on the landing of the stairs.

"Get back in bed." Henry said angrily.

"Blake, this has nothing to do with you." Elizabeth said, as she limped into the entry way. "Thank you for bringing me those files."

"Fine." Henry said turning to glance at her. "Do whatever you want." He pushed past Blake and went out the door and down the steps.

"I . . . ma'am . . . I'm sorry if I . . ." Blake glanced around. "I'll put the files on your desk, alright?"

"Blake, I'm sorry. Thank you, that would be fine."

"Oh, uh, here." He said before turning to leave. "I brought some soup and some other . . . ma'am, I am very sorry."

She took the bag from him, smiling sadly as she did. "No, Blake we are the ones who are sorry. Don't give this another thought, alright? Thank you for everything. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded and went back to the office, but he wasn't able to get much work done. He spent most of the day, sitting and staring at his computer.

***MS***

The icy cold winds were impossible to ignore, and Henry McCord had stormed out the house without grabbing a coat. As much as he wanted to indulge in his unreasonable rage, the illogic of wandering the streets in his shirt sleeves proved to bring his temper back in check. He slowed to a stop, and shaking his head, recognized that he had pretty much screwed things up. He knew he needed to go home and make things right with Elizabeth, but either too ashamed or anxious, he choose instead to hop on the Metro, and see if he could catch Blake.

Blake Moran was sitting staring at his computer screen, and was uncharacteristically unaware of his approach.

"Blake?" Dr. McCord said, and the poor kid looked up startled.

"Dr. McCord." He said rising. "I just want to apologize for . . . I know you must be angry - especially because she got hurt. I swear, I was just trying to get her in the bunker faster. I didn't mean to . . ."

"No, no. No, Blake, sit down. I came here to apologize to you. I haven't slept much these last few days, and been so . . . well, it's no excuse. I treated you terribly. Please, forgive me. You just got caught in the middle of something that has nothing to do with you. I am very sorry."

"Oh, well," Blake stammered. "Of course. I understand. The last few days have been pretty difficult."

"Yes." Henry agreed. "And why aren't you home? You must be so tired, too. I know you . . ." He paused suddenly registering Blake's earlier worlds. "You were trying to get her into a bunker? I . . . she hasn't told me what happened."

"Oh," Blake said blushing. "I thought that was why you were so angry at me. I froze up. I didn't know what to do at first, and she doubled back to get me. She put herself at risk and . . ." He paused looking up at Dr. McCord. "I should let her tell you. But I am sorry about that, and then I was trying to get her inside, but I pushed her too hard, and she fell - that's why her knee is hurt. I did that."

"I thought a radical group claimed responsibility." Dr. McCord offered.

"I see your point, sir." Blake nodded. "It's very generous. Still, _I'm_ the one who pushed her down. _I'm_ the reason she wasn't already inside that bunker."

"Well, you've known her a long time, Blake, but I've known her longer. And I'm pretty confident, you didn't call out to her, or beg her to come and help you. She's got a protective instinct a mile wide, and both of us know that no one on this earth can stop her from doing something she's decided to do." He collapsed into the chair next to Blake's desk. "You'd think working for the State Department would be a lot calmer than working for the CIA."

"Well, you can take the agent out of the field but," Blake offered, and Henry laughed.

"Yeah, I see your point." Henry agreed, rising back up. "I am sorry for earlier, and hope you can overlook my behavior."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"That's a good man." Henry held out a hand, and Blake shook it. "Thank you for all you did. I do trust you, Blake."

"I appreciate that, Dr. McCord."

"Good. And you should go home. She'd be angry to know you spent your day working, and you look terrible. Go home. Eat something, and then sleep for at least 10 hours because you and I know that she's going to be here bright and early tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. I will." Henry nodded at Blake and made his way back to the elevator. He was surprised when Frank met him at the lobby.

"Dr. McCord, can I give you a lift?" Frank asked.

"Elizabeth is . . ." He felt his heart rate pick up instantly.

"Secretary McCord is home and fine." Frank responded soothingly. "Matt noticed you left in a bit of a rush, and thought you might appreciate a ride home."

"Thank you. That would be great."

He sank back into the seat as the car manuvered through the busy streets of DC. He felt much better having apologized to Blake, but he still felt a pit in his stomach as he thought of Elizabeth. She was going to be furious at him, for yelling at poor, innocent Blake and for running off. She hated that more than anything. She'd told him the very first year they were married, _"Stomp around the house furious! Go sit in another room and refuse to speak to me. Just stay home! I can't manage you running off. I don't like it. I don't like sitting in an empty house feeling nothing but regret."_

He ran his hand through his hair. _You screwed this one up, McCord._ He told himself, wanting nothing more than to rewind time backwards so that he could start the whole day over remembering how very good it had felt to have his arms around her again when she'd first stepped through their door.


	13. Chapter 13

_Day 17 (continued)_

Henry McCord was unsurprised to find his wife in her office. He had no expectation that she would be resting. She used to joke that since they both either worked or cleaned, fighting usually resulted in a clean house, and a completed to-do list. It was the only upside to arguments.

She didn't greet him as he came in the front door, or even look up as he stood in the doorway of their shared office. He sighed, deeply troubled but relieved she was at least sitting down and resting her swollen knee.

"Elizabeth . . ." He began.

"You decided to come back, then." Her voice was brittle and the sound of it made him sick to his stomach. He _hated_ any distance between them.

"Yes, I, uh," He swallowed hard. "I am back and . . . Look, can we just . . . Can I talk to you?"

"You sure?" She looked up at him. "You don't want to go for another walk?"

"Elizabeth," He couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice.

Her anger was a wave, rolling toward him - rolling _over_ him and pulling him under, yet he couldn't keep his stubborn heart for feeling angry. _She_ had lied. _She_ had put the distance between them in the first place.

"Henry." She snapped back at him.

He felt helpless and unbelievably frustrated. The entire thing was ridiculous! Yet, her fury was as justified as his. It didn't help that she glared at him with beautiful, bright, blue eyes that were framed by dark-rimmed glasses. She was still dressed in his pajama bottoms and a tank top, and somehow this made her seem all the more vulnerable and adorable. It was an added layer of frustration to him that even when he was wholly irritated with her, he still found her completely attractive. She was so damn beautiful, and it wasn't fair that part of him could never see past that simple truth. He sighed again, shaking his head at her as he did, wishing once again that he could have a do-over. He knew it was wrong to run out like he did. He knew it caused her great pain. It was so stupid! He understood that leaving her - running off like that always triggered dark memories of an empty house and her alone; bereft. He leaned against the doorway.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry." His voice was heavy with regret and she looked up meeting his eyes for a long minute. "You've every right to be furious, I know that! But we need to talk." He studied her his eyes locked on hers. "Please, Babe. Unless, you are going to do your own version of running off?" He raised eyebrow at her. This last statement was a risk and a little unfair but still true. Although she never physically left in an argument, sometimes she left him alone all the same.

"Henry, that isn't fair!" Her response was sharp. "Fine! Whatever! I'm too tired for any of this!" She rose and went into the living room, Henry trailing behind her. She continued her rant as they entered the room. "You want to tell me I was wrong to lie? I know that! You want to say how hurt you are by it? I know that too! You want to tell me how I betrayed you? How I betrayed us? Whatever it is Henry, I already know it! You are right! Okay? You are right!" She paced in front of the couch where he had sunk down into the cushions. "What was I supposed to do? I can't really talk to you sometimes, Henry. You know that! I can't just . . .Listen, I felt trapped! I can't do what I need, or what you need. I just can't!" She threw her hands up, pausing to draw in a shuddering breath. "I feel trapped sometimes! I don't have time to deal with . . I have to be . . . There isn't time or space for me to . . ." She paused in front of him, her hands gesturing wildly, her voice unsteady.

"Baby, sit down." He said gently.

"Don't." She pointed her finger at him, suppressing a sob. "Don't be kind to me, not now. I lied to you! I lied more than once!" She shook her head at him. "Don't be kind, please!"

"You want angry?" He asked and reaching up, grabbed her hand pulling her down to sit on the couch. "I can be angry, but you need to stay off that knee. Please, sweetheart."

She acquiesced and sat on the opposite end of the couch but remained silent.

"Look, Babe, I _was_ angry." He told her. "I mean, you are right. You lying to me like that," He paused a moment, "Listen, I understand the _why_ of it, but it still isn't something I can just . . . And I already knew what had happened! I knew you were lying." She looked up at him at this, her teary eyes wide in surprise. "Babe, I've got nearly as high level clearance as you do, and you know that Blake and I talk! This isn't news to you. If I can't reach you, I'm calling him. I told you this. We accepted it."

"So, then what is this all about? Are just trying to make me feel like crap about lying to you? Because mission accomplished, Captain."

"No, Elizabeth. That isn't what this is about!" He looked down at his hand, spinning his wedding band, absent-mindedly. "Babe, it is just that, I was worried about you. It was really hard. And it felt so _familiar_ in all the wrong ways. And I knew it would be difficult for you to talk to me. I get that. But then you walked in the door, and it was like before, you know. I can't manage how . . . I can't do that again."

She covered her face with her hands, nodding her head, but saying nothing.

"And you are right - I should not have run off like I did. That was wrong. I do understand how much that hurts you. I know that and I am sorry. I made a mistake. But Baby, this isn't . . ." He cleared his throat, his voice suddenly husky. "You don't live in an empty house anymore. You know that, right?"

He moved so that he wrapped an arm around her. "I can manage you being gone. I don't like it but I can manage it. I can even manage when our schedules get out of control and we barely have time to talk - at least- I can manage it for a little while but I can no longer manage you acting like everything is fine when it isn't. I can't do that anymore. It is _physically_ painful to me. I can't manage going backwards like that. I can't bear being cut off from you like that again. And I'm sorry if it feels smothering, I am. But I'm telling you the truth; I _need_ you."

She said nothing, instead, turning into him, burying her face in his shoulder. He pulled her in closer, his arms strong around her, as she quietly wept. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, pulling her as close to him as could, while still being careful of her knee, so that she sat with her legs draped over her lap.

Elizabeth rarely cried. It was one of the most surprising things he'd learned about her for she had a very tender heart. She felt things very deeply, her eyes would grow bright with a shine of tears, but very rarely did those tears fall. He'd asked her about it during their first year of marriage.

" _I've only seen you cry once." He told her one rainy afternoon._

" _And?" She looked up at him from behind the Scrabble board._

" _Wow, at least you aren't defensive about it." He said grinning at her._

" _I'm not being defensive." She said a little too sharply. "I'm just . . . do you have a question?"_

" _I don't know." He shrugged. "I guess I thought it was because you thought you couldn't - that it would scare me or something, but we talk about everything. I think you know you can trust me."_

" _I certainly hope so." She said smiling at him. "I don't plan on getting married twice."_

" _You are trying to distract me." He furrowed his brows at her. "What is it?"_

" _Henry, geez, let's just play Scrabble. Okay? I mean you don't think I'm a hard-hearted monster, do you?"_

" _God, no!"_

" _Well, then what are we talking about?"_

" _Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . ." He realized he had somehow wandered into deep waters._

" _No," She sighed, loudly. "Look, I just . . . I don't know. Crying is ineffective. It doesn't change things. And it makes me feel really helpless - you know? I hate that." She looked down at the board and added softly. "Crying won't raise the dead."_

It had hit him then - really hard. He could see her in his mind's eye so small and completely alone. He'd looked it up when he'd first been dating her, and it was all over the papers - complete with a picture of her and Will. _Poor Little Rich Kids_ the headline had cruely stated. The outside world far too interested in the wealth they'd inherited to realize they were two kids left alone. He'd been far too young then to explain the powerful force of love and empathy that had washed over him in that moment, but it felt it every time she cried. Every. Single. Time.

"I'm sorry." She said moving back from him, and wiping her eyes. "You must think I'm a big baby."

"No." He told her. "I've never thought that of you." He reached out and brushed her hair back behind her ear. "So, you want to talk about it?"

She leaned in against his shoulder. "I guess. I mean it sounds like you already know everything."

"No. Blake just said that there were some pretty violent protesters. He said you had to hide out in a bunker, and then had to wait out more protesters after you finally made it to the airport. He was pretty light on details - other than to explain to me, repeatedly, that he was the reason you were hurt."

"Poor Blake!" She sighed. "I don't know. It was all pretty stupid. We were on our way, and had pulled into a nearby base because there were far too many protesters where we were planning the meeting. And then all of the sudden it was . . . it was loud and there were explosions, and I couldn't . . ." Here she paused again crying into his shoulder.

"Did you have a panic attack?" He asked her, anxious of the answer.

"No, there wasn't time, and Blake was . . .I thought _he_ was going to have a panic attack. I was so focused on keep him calm, that I didn't have time to flip out, I guess." She sighed resting against him.

"And the knee?"

"Oh, well, we were running and like I said, Blake was pretty close to panic. It was just a bad combination of events. I lost my balance at the same time he tried to push me to safety. It's a pretty dumb injury, and then I reinjured it getting on the plane because I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Sounds like it was pretty scary."

"Don't baby me. It was maybe fifty protesters with homemade molotov cocktails, Henry." She looked up at him. "They basically put firecrackers into a mason jar."

"You didn't know that until afterwards. You aren't overreacting." He leaned in kissing her forehead.

"I'm sick of this doubling back on us. I'm good. And we probably would've laughed about this if it wasn't for . . ."

"Hey, that's enough." He interrupted sensing her body become tense with frustration. "Nothing is doubling back on us. It's part of who we are, now. And it isn't weakness, okay? That was scary, babe, but so was this. I don't like being away from you, and I especially don't like being away from you when people are trying to harm or scare you."

"That weren't trying to harm me . . ."

"Yeah, they were! Imagine how much attention their cause would gain if they put the United States Secretary of State in the hospital. You are right to be frightened after something like that, Elizabeth. It has nothing to do with Iran."

She nodded, her blond hair bouncing as she did, but saying nothing turned her face back into his shoulder, clinging tightly. He kissed the top of her brow repeatedly, grateful that the awful distance between them had dissipated.

"So, you want to yell at me for being a jerk?" He asked, but she shook her head.

"Maybe later." She said looking up at him through red-rimmed, tired eyes.

"Well, unless you want to explain to me some more how being a world leader, dealing with three back-to-back crises, and safely bring home three American kids makes you a candyass weakling, maybe you should try and get some sleep?"

She nodded at this, and unfolded herself from his arms, and rose awkwardly, but even before she took her first step, he had risen, and lifting her up in his arms, carried her up to their room.

"I can walk, you know." She said feistily.

"Yep. I just like carrying you around. I missed my workout the last couple of days, and although you don't really weigh enough to do me any good, hauling you upstairs is better than nothing." He set her down on the bed, and smiling leaned in and kissed her. She kissed him back pulling him down toward her.

"You need to sleep." He said pushing himself back from her.

"I will." She said, her arms around him. "Later."

"What about the knee?" He asked her.

"We can manage." She said winking at him.

He surrendered then, grateful that she was finally, and truly home at last.


	14. Chapter 14

_Day 17, Continued_

"Mom's home!" Alison shouted as Stevie pulled up to the house, pointing at the familiar dark SUV's parked in front of their house.

"And the circus is back." Jason said dryly.

"I guess the world is safe again." Stevie said, parking the car. "She's probably tired though, Ali so . . ." But Allison had already thrown open the car door and darted up the steps.

"She's worse than a six year old." Jason said reaching for the door handle.

"Well, not everyone can cover up their fear with a bitter sarcastic tone, J." Stevie said before pushing open the door and climbing out of the car.

"Who said I was afraid?" He said defensively as he walked up the steps beside his older sister.

She shook her head at him. "Right, Mom barely survives a coup, and Dad gets hit with a radioactive bomb, but you aren't afraid."

"Shut up, Stevie!" Stevie's eyes grew wide at his reaction, but saying nothing, she grabbed onto his elbow and led him inside.

They were greeted by their father, who was holding onto Allison's arm.

" . . .let her sleep, Noodle. Just give her some . . ." He was saying, but was interrupted by a voice from upstairs.

"I am not asleep!" They all grinned at their mother's voice. "And you better not keep those babies away from me, Henry Patrick McCord or . . ."

"Or, what?" He said laughing. "You think you can take me? _Buying_ clothes for the gym isn't the same thing as actually working out, Babe."

Allison McCord glanced briefly at her father who gave a slight nod of his head, before she bolted up the stairs to her mother's bedroom. She threw her arms around her mother who was sitting up in bed.

"I missed you, kid!" She said holding Allison in a tight hug.

"Me too!" Allison sat back from her mother beaming with delight. "Did you just get home?"

"Earlier, but I think I'm mixed up about whether it is day or night." She laughed, her arms outstretched to embrace Stevie who had come into the room with Jason trailing behind her.

"We are glad you are home." Stevie said, kissing her mother's cheek and then standing next to Allison who sat on the edge of the bed.

"Well, don't be a dork!" Elizabeth McCord said to Jason who stood awkwardly at the end of the bed. "Come let me hug you, or are you too cool for that?"

"You are the dork." He said, shaking his head and walking over to hug her. "Dad fed us candy and made us watch horror movies every night you were gone."

"You wish." She said laughing. "It's good to be home."

"I'm surprised you aren't at work." Jason said, leaning against the wall of the bedroom. "The world safe for today?"

"This afternoon, anyway." She studied him thoughtfully. "I've been gone too much, and I missed you guys." She smiled at them. "I missed my babies."

"Geez, mom!" Jason groaned.

"Mom! I'm sixteen years old! C'mon!" Allison protested but Stevie just laughed.

"You hungry?" Stevie asked her mother. "We were just talking about making some grilled cheese on the way home."

"That sounds fantastic." She threw the covers back, and stood awkwardly.

"Mom!" Allison burst out.

"What happened to your knee?" Stevie asked her.

"Oh, well, it turns out I'm a bit of a klutz." She shook her head. "It's stupid. I fell."

"I told you block heels were a mistake." Allison said, as they all followed her limping out of the bedroom.

"Well, here's good news then: I tossed them. They are somewhere in Hungary."

***MS***

Elizabeth McCord leaned back in her chair, setting down the remains of a grilled cheese sandwich.

"See, I can totally cook." She declared, sighing happily.

"Yeah, Mom." Allison agreed. "You are the queen of toast."

"And you can heat soup with the best of them." Stevie added.

"Thanks for that." Elizabeth said winking. She stretched lazily. "What time is it?"

"4:45." Jason told her. "Can I go over to Bender's?"

"No." Henry said. "Mom just got home!"

"She's falling asleep." Jason protested, gesturing to his mother.

"No." Henry repeated, and Jason shook his head, rising from the table and going to the sink.

Stevie watched her younger brother, wearily, and rising took her plate and her mother's plate to the sink.

"Help me wash, brat." She told him, bumping his hip with hers.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes at her, but reached for the dish soap, as she doubled back to clear the rest of the table.

***MS***

Elizabeth knew she ought to just go back up to bed, but was far too content to have her family around her. She had settled on the couch, her legs stretched out. Allison sat on the other end, balancing her chemistry book on her lap, as she did her homework. She could hear the sound of Stevie and Jason from the kitchen. Jason had decided that he was hungry almost as soon as they'd finished cleaning up from their snack, and now the two of them were working to concoct some sort of pasta dish for dinner.

"You want anything?" Henry asked, hovering near her shoulder. "Thirsty?"

"Sort of tempted to have a glass of wine, but then it would all be over!" She laughed. "I'd be asleep in ten seconds."

"Now, I'm tempted to give you a glass of wine!" Henry laughed. "Besides didn't they give you pain pills for the knee?"

"Oh, that's right." She shook her head. "This has been the longest day. That seems like weeks ago."

"I'll get you some water." Henry said turning from her.

"So you saved those kids." Allison said to her mother. "I saw them with their parents on the news."

"Don't expect me to okay a trip running around Eastern Europe anytime soon, Noodle." Elizabeth said, winking at her daughter.

"Oh, that's okay, I was holding out for a trip to China."

"Fabulous!" Elizabeth accepted the glass of water that Henry handed her, taking a sip. "The Ambassador to China and I are practically besties." She winked at Henry, leaning forward, so that he could slide onto the couch behind her. She settled back against him, setting the glass of water on the coffee table.

"Jason, you didn't say anything about that math test we studied for." Henry said, and Jason stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the family room.

"I dunno. It was fine, I guess."

"How long does it usually take to find out?"

"He said he'd give back to us by Friday." Jason shrugged. "I'm gonna go do my homework."

He turned and was gone. Elizabeth glanced at Henry, who shrugged his shoulders.

"You just got home and are tired, Elizabeth. Leave it alone." He told her.

Stevie flopped into a chair. "Dinner in half an hour." She smiled at her mom. "But I'm thinking Jason's the only one who'll be hungry."

"He's always hungry." Allison looked up from a work briefly. "Mom, you'll be home tomorrow night, too, right?"

"In theory." Elizabeth said. "I don't have another trip scheduled for awhile."

"Unless a couple of teenagers decide to backpack into Iraq." Stevie offered.

"Oh, God! Let's hope not!"

"You should go back to bed, Mom." Stevie said. "You are falling asleep."

"I should." Elizabeth agreed, sleepily. Her eyes started to drift shut, but suddenly she pushed herself up from the couch. "Okay." She stood looking down at Henry.

"Stevie said you should go to bed." He pointed out to her. "And I said leave it alone for now."

"I heard you." She evaded. She limped to where Stevie sat, brushing a hand through her daughter's hair. "Thanks for doing the dishes, baby."

"No, problem." She said looking up at her mother. "Dad's right, though. Go to sleep. He won't talk to you. I've tried. He's not ready, yet."

Elizabeth considered her daughter thoughtfully for a long moment. "Thanks for looking out for him."

She paused next to Ali to give her forehead a kiss, and then continued limping toward the stairs, favoring her bad knee.

"She never listens." Stevie said to her father, who sighed, and pushed himself up from the couch.

"Tell me about it." He said and caught up to Elizabeth, wrapping an arm around her, so she could lean on him, as she limped up the stairs.

***MS***

She stood just inside his bedroom doorway, and typical of a youth consumed with angst, Jason sat on his bed a laptop in front of him, earbuds in his ears. He looked up at his parents, and pulled out one earbud.

"What? You going to bed?" He asked, not quite making eye contact with his mother.

"I just thought I'd see what you were up to." She limped into the room and sat on the edge of his bed. "You doing homework?"

"Nah." He shrugged. He glanced over at his father who still stood in the doorway. "You gotta take another trip or something?"

"No. I just . . ." She moved closer to him. "You seem . . ."

"You look really tired, Mom." He interrupted, rising abruptly. "She should be in bed." He said gesturing to his father.

"I agree." Henry said calmly. "But she has a hard time sleeping when she's worried."

"Yeah?" Jason responded sharply, his voice rising in pitch. "Join the club!" He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at his mother.

"Jason," She said rising, unsteadily. "Hey, we should talk about this."

"What?" He asked her. "There's nothing to talk about. It's fine. You are fine." He gestured toward his father. "He's fine. I'm fine. Nobody died. And everyone is great."

"It was really scary, though." Henry said taking a step closer to his son.

"I. Am. Not. Scared." Jason spit out angrily. "Stop saying that! Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Okay," Elizabeth soothed. "So you tell us what you feel."

"No." He shook his head. "Jesus, Dad, will you make her just go rest!" He turned back to his mother. "You need to get some rest. They are gonna call in another hour or so, and you are gonna have to drag yourself back downtown, and . . . just go get some rest."

"Baby, look . . ."

"You didn't trip, Mom. Okay?" His voice was a tight growl. "I'm not a baby. I can manage the internet and its not like the press ignores you. You were overrun by violent protestors who wanted to kill you." He pointed at her. "You didn't trip and hurt your knee."

Elizabeth sighed and glanced over at Henry.

"I told you to stay off the internet." Henry said, reaching out and putting a hand on Jason's arm. "It only makes you worry."

"Yeah, well, at least it doesn't lie to me!" Jason spun to face his father. "It doesn't feed me some bullshit story about why Mom is so jittery she can't sleep after her "peaceful" little trip - which was to freakin' Iran in the middle of a coup! And at least I don't have to worry about another bomb going off - I mean, we are all safe here, protected, right? Just like at that conference - they had security too! So whatever! Go to your fake conferences and tell me a bunch dirty lies about where you are. I can sleep fine. Hell, you were younger than me, when your parents died, so no big deal right?"

He had pushed himself away from his father, and stood directly in front of his mother, whose eyes shone bright with tears.

"Jason," She whispered. "Baby, I'm sorry."

His shoulders slumped and he looked down at the floor. "Please," He pleaded. "Please, just go lie down, Mom. I can't . . . I can see the pain on your face. Your knee is hurting you!"

"It's not my knee." She whispered as she wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his head as she did. She half expected him to push her away, but instead he hugged her to himself crying great heaving sobs. He held so tightly to her that she would have fallen over, if Henry hadn't wrapped his arms around them both.

***MS***

"Go to sleep." Henry said, reaching over clicking off the light.

"I'm trying to." Elizabeth pointed out. They were both in bed and it was nearly eleven. She had every intention of being in bed hours ago, but between Jason's outburst, and the girls coming to check on Jason, and Stevie trying to feed her, and then Allison wanting to sit with her and talk with her - the evening had stretched on and on. Henry had shooed all of them out around nine, and she'd expected to collapse into instant sleep, but she'd been too keyed up.

"i'm just saying that he's never going to go willingly."

"Elizabeth, I"m not kidding. We can talk about it later. Go to sleep." Henry said clicking of his beside lamp.

"It's not like we ever said anything negative about therapy, did we?" She glanced over at her husband. "I mean before. I didn't make quips about it, did I?"

"You are just trying to drag me back into the conversation. I'm rolling over and I'm going to sleep." Henry said.

"It would be better if he wanted to go. Should we make the girls go too? I mean, things have gotten out of control."

Henry turned toward her then. "No, they haven't."

"Really? Did you have to deal with surviving a bomb when you were in high school? Did you have to deal with your mother running all over the globe?"

"They are doing okay, and Jason . . ." Henry sighed, reaching out and running a hand soothingly over Elizabeth's shoulder.

"He's been keeping a lot of things inside." Elizabeth said flatly. "I'd blame you, but it might be an Adams trait."

"It's a Jason trait." He told her. "And it isn't a problem that can be solved tonight. You've been awake for days, Babe. You've got to get some rest."

"Yeah." She agreed. She nodded her head and said nothing more.

"What?" He asked softly.

"I dunno." She said quietly. "I just sometimes wonder if it would be easier now if I had a mom when I was there age. I've got nothing to guide me."

Henry remained silently thoughtful and she sighed, waiting for the quote that was sure to follow, but when the silence continued she sat up on her elbow.

"Henry?" She peered at him in the dim light. "Where's my quote?"

"Sometimes, I'm at a loss for words." He whispered.

"I have that effect on people." She quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

"No." He said. "You are just . . ." He shook his head. "No, joke, Babe, I was mad as hell at you for . . ." He paused, clearing his throat. "But you are so sweet and I want so much to fix," he stopped again rubbing his forehead. "Everything. The kids. Your job. My job. I just want make everything right for you. I want to travel back in time and stop that crash."

She lay back down flat, her arm draped over her eyes, incapable of any response. Henry sat up on his elbow, leaning over her.

"Babe?" He asked.

"I can't even respond to something like that." Her voice was muffled by her arm, but she final lifted it and looked up at him with teary eyes. "Henry, that's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me. And I'm so sorry about before. I really am."

"We already settled all that." He said running his hand along her cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

"We did." She agreed. "But it's been the longest of days."

"It has been. And now, sleep." He kissed her again and she shifted so that he could wrap his arms around her.

"It will be dawn again before you know it." She sighed.

"And the grey-eyed goddess held back the dawn so that the lovers could linger safely in one another's arms." Henry said.

And even as her eyes drifted shut she laughed comforted by the steady predictability of Henry.

"'Night, babe." She said sleepily.

"Good night, 'Lizabeth." She felt his lips brush her cheek and then, at last, she slept.

***MS***

Author's Note: My husband is a musician and last summer, was performing in Eastern Europe when a group of protesters stormed that stage and held him and his band hostage for a few hours. He called me just before it happened and texted me until his phone died. It really changed how I watch that Tamerlane episode and made the last few episodes kind of tense. Let's just say Barbara Hall knows what she's doing! He made it home safe but that was the longest of days.


End file.
